


An Orc Before Breakfast

by Exophile_3D (bearbane)



Series: Orcs Are Hot [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Action & Romance, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Battle, Best Friends, Biting, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Childhood Friends, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Cock Piercing, Death Threats, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Draenei, Epiphanies, Exophilia, F/M, Fights, Friendship, Gratuitous Smut, Happy Ending, Hot Sex, Interrogation, Large Cock, Light Dom/sub, Love, Mages, Making Love, Maledom, Marriage of Convenience, Maternal Instinct, Mates, Monster Boyfriend, Multiple Orgasms, Murder, Naughty, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, Orcs, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Penis In Vagina Sex, Penis Size, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Political Alliances, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Scars, Sex, Sex at swordpoint, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Size Kink, Soul-Searching, Spanking, Threats, Threats of Violence, True Mates, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vanilla, War, Whipping, endless orgasms, excessive cum, orc boyfriend, orc lover, orc smut, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearbane/pseuds/Exophile_3D
Summary: Bonus chapter up 12th July 2020---COMPLETE 6th July 2020Loosely set in WoW.When Thalia frees an orphaned orc from her father's dungeon, she has no idea of the route her life will take. Their paths cross time and again, bringing them together against a backdrop of war, unlikely alliances, and an unwanted marriage for strategic gain.Are they destined to be together? Or will fate, war and the machinations of men conspire to drive them apart?This started off as a smutty one-shot that turned into a few more bits of smut, then mutated out into a bit of a saga. Oops.Also, the title was just intended to be for the first chapter when it was a one-shot. I've tried renaming it, but nothing seemed to fit, so I'm afraid we're stuck with it!
Relationships: Female Human(s)/Male Orc(s) (Warcraft)
Series: Orcs Are Hot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838392
Comments: 74
Kudos: 197





	1. A Summer's Day to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thalia (literally) stumbles across an orc...

Thalia eased herself into the cool waters of the stream, feet slipping on weed-covered pebbles until the water reached her waist. She sucked in a breath as the water chilled the sun-warmed skin of her bare midriff, then shook her head and dived in headfirst. The cold was a shock, but her body soon accustomed itself to the temperature, and moments later she was swimming in the idly whirling eddies that pulled gently at her in this curved part of the watercourse. Above, the sky was a hazy blue that promised another hot day, and small, fleet forms darted through the air, hunter and hunted in the eternal dance of life and death. She floated on her back for a while, calm and content, looking up at the softly-waving fronds of a willow, where a hungry dragonfly caught its breakfast, and a bird with exotic plumage fed its calling young. The thought of food prompted her to spin around and swim for the bank. There were eggs and dried meat in her saddlebag, along with a few hunks of dry bread, and she’d spotted some herbs close to her camp she planned to brew in a morning infusion.

Grabbing onto a handy branch, Thalia steadied herself on the slippery streambed, and gained the bank with only the slightest of mishaps. Smiling to herself, she was almost sad there had been no-one around to witness her stumble, not least because she was naked. Somehow pratfalls were always funnier when people were naked. Her last lover hadn’t shared her view, unfortunately, which meant that she’d had to give him his marching orders. Or had it been the other way around? Thalia really couldn’t have cared less. A man with no sense of humour was simply not going to last long in a relationship with her. She picked her way up the grassy bank to the large rock where she had left her clothes, her mind lingering over images of her erstwhile lover. What he had lacked in humour, he had made up for in physique and stamina, and Thalia was suddenly, disappointingly aware of how long it had been since she had been intimate with anyone. 

She huffed to herself as she reached for her drying cloth, chiding herself that she was young and healthy, and would doubtless have little trouble finding a mate when she got back to civilisation. As she stood up, cloth in hand, another figure rose simultaneously on the other side of the rock, barely a spear’s length away, startling her. The orc was huge, close on seven feet in height, and probably twice her weight, judging by the massive slabs of muscle she could see around the creature’s chest and shoulders. It was in profile, facing the bend in the river, and she took in salient details in a heartbeat: its jutting tusks, the proud arch of its mighty chest, raven-black hair partially caught up in a tail on top of its head, and a dark red hide riven with scars. Its head swung around to face her, and the movement galvanised her into action. She dropped the cloth, grabbed her sword, leaped forward onto the rock while drawing the blade and hurled herself at the stranger with all the force she could muster. 

She registered a look of surprise on the orc’s face as she leaped. Good. That gave her an advantage, however slight, and it was one she intended to maximise. The orc stumbled back as one hundred and thirty pounds of flying human collided with his chest, and the two went down. He landed on his back with a grunt of shock, and Thalia quickly moved to gain the upper hand, straddling the fallen creature and laying her blade against his throat. For several heartbeats, neither moved. The only sound was Thalia’s breath, coming fast but controlled, the tinkling of the watercourse, and the buzzing, chittering sounds of a summer’s morning. Thalia’s breathing slowed. Recognition dawned. He was older, thicker through the body, his ears, nose and tusks shining with metal rings, his hair longer, his skin scarred and veined where before it had been smooth, but still she knew him.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, but she kept her silence. How well did he remember her? Were his loyalties to the Horde now so strong that he would kill her as a servant of the Alliance and a natural enemy of his race? It had been nearly ten years since she had aided his escape from her father’s dungeon, and if those ten years had wrought such drastic changes in a lordling’s daughter, transforming what was soft, naive and timid to something to inspire youngsters to adventure, what would they have done to an orphaned orc? She decided she would wait for him to speak and judge her course of action accordingly. 

She watched the realisation spread over the orc’s face; recognition; a reassessment of the situation; a hint of mischief. He startled her then by bringing his hands to her hips and grabbing firmly, each massive hand covering hip and buttock simultaneously. She jolted from the unexpected contact and her sword moved slightly, grazing but not drawing blood. Close. He must realise what a dangerous game he played, with cold steel against his hide. Thick it might be, but he was no less vulnerable to a quick, messy death should his jugular meet her blade. Thalia glanced again at his face, noting the spreading grin a split second before he pulled his hands downwards, bringing her groin into contact with his. She drew a sharp breath. While he was clothed from the waist down in rough suede leggings, there was no mistaking the message that contact conveyed. He wanted her, and more; he was ready for her.

Thalia swallowed hard, trying to get a grip on herself. She had been a little excited to begin with, thinking of the prowess of an old flame, and now the pressure of his hardness against her was acting as a catalyst, speeding up her reactions. While she was still dripping wet from her plunge in the stream, there was going to be more than just river water on his trousers if this situation continued. She risked a glance down between them to where her body was held against his, taking in the sight of the broad, sinewy chest, fluffy with black hair and adorned with a pair of rings, past the pronounced ridges of his abdomen, to the place where his pants bulged in an effort to contain him. It took less than a second, but in that instant, the orc reacted. As soon as her eyes left his, he flipped her.

All the air was momentarily driven from her lungs as the orc spun them both and landed on top of her, pressing hard between her parted legs. Thalia’s sword was still against his neck, but her advantage was lessened. She scowled and pressed the edge of the blade harder against his throat, an unspoken warning in her eyes. He held her gaze as he propped himself on one arm and began to undo the laces that held his leggings closed. She watched him in disbelief. Did he care so little for his life, or so little for her threat? A moment later she had her answer in the form of his manhood, which fell from his opened pants to thud hard, hot and heavy against her inner thigh. 

She shook her head. He was crazy, that was the only explanation. Still, the primal part of her brain, the one concerned with both survival and pleasure was starting to send her mixed messages. She was aroused, there was no denying that. The orc was exuding heat like a furnace, and this close, his earthy, spicy scent was all around her, scrambling her thoughts. His meat was hot against her leg, and a little damp, and she knew her body was ready to accommodate him. Her nipples had hardened, not from the river cold, but from his proximity, and she longed to feel the rough brush of his wiry chest hair against them. He surprised her again then with a deft move that brought his tip into direct contact with her slick entrance, and it was enough to bring her to her senses. What was she, some animal to rut with a strange member of the opposite sex in a field, and a member of the Horde no less? She pushed back against his throat, raising her head off the ground. “Back off,” she snarled, eyes ablaze in warning.

While he did draw his head back slightly, he did not do as she ordered. Instead he responded, “If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to slit my throat.” His voice was low; deeper than it had been when they had last met, and it sent tingles down her spine that were far from unpleasant.

Could she kill him? Her mind threw up an unhelpful set of memories. A young orc, barely a year or two older than her in real terms and hardly full grown, but still taller and bulkier than most of her father’s castle guard. Did he remember the girl who had felt sorry for the orphaned youngster, separated from the rest of his people and left in solitary confinement? Did he remember the stories of heroes and legends she would sneak down to read to him? The sweet and savoury treats she had smuggled to the bars of his cell?

“Spill my blood,” he urged, leaning down and putting pressure against the blade. Thalia moved it back slightly, confused by her old memories and feelings. How did they match up with the creature that now held her down? As she did so, he inched forward into her in a movement that sent a thousand tiny crackles of pleasure radiating out from where their bodies joined.

Thalia gulped in air, holding the blade as steady as she could while her mind ranged back. Did he remember the night of fire and bloodshed when the invaders had driven out her people, killed almost everyone Thalia had ever known, and started her on her path to independence and high adventure? 

“Feel it run hot and wet against your skin.”

Another distraction. Another few inches. Thalia’s heart was pounding fit to erupt from her chest, and every nerve in her body was screaming at her to stop resisting and let him complete his agonisingly slow thrust. 

Did he remember how she had risked her own life hurrying to the dungeons while the castle blazed and people died screaming, desperate to make sure he survived?

He leaned down low, his tusks brushing her ear, the blade pressing against both their throats now, and his breath hot against her skin. 

“Kill me,” he growled, and with that, Ulag hilted himself inside her.

Thalia’s head thudded back against the soft grass, mouth open in a silent scream, unable to breathe while the pressure against her womanhood increased, and the blood pounded in her ears. She barely noticed when Ulag grabbed the blade from her limp grip and tossed it a few feet away, beyond arm’s reach. She did notice when he slipped his free arm beneath the small of her back, as it angled her hips to meet him and increased the intensity of the sensations. She opened her eyes and drew a couple of ragged breaths while she took in a close up view of his features. His forehead jutted above thick, dark brows, his small, blunt nose was pierced with an ornate ring through the septum, and his broad lips were parted around thick tusks. The look of mischief was gone, replaced by one of intense desire and furious concentration. 

With their gazes locked together, he began to move. Tiny, almost imperceptible movements at first, each one bringing a fresh wave of tingling pleasure. While he was large, she was hardly virgin, and her own excitement made their joining relatively easy, but still he apparently didn’t want to risk injuring her, and kept his urges in check.

Thalia moved one hand up to touch his cheek, running a thumb across the high cheekbone, down to his jaw and around the back of his thick neck. Her other hand slid down his side, over the powerful muscles beneath his arm and across his bare back to his sturdy buttock. She grabbed a handful and began to pull in time with his rocking hips, encouraging him to bolder movements. Ulag grunted his acknowledgment and withdrew so that only the head was still inside, then drove his hips slowly home, keeping up the pressure as their bodies met, until Thalia thought nothing could ever be so deep inside her and she began to slide backwards on the grass.

Their bodies began to move in unison now, undulating in time with a natural rhythm that they alone could hear. Ulag’s thrusts increased in speed as Thalia tugged and pulled at him anywhere she could reach, thrashing her head from side to side in the grass as his actions drove her to frenzy. Dipping his head and contorting his torso, he lavished wet kisses on her hardened nipples, sucking and flicking at the dark pink buds until Thalia cried out in need. Catching and holding her gaze, he ran the length of one rough, pitted tusk against the sensitive nerves, causing his lover to groan and buck and clutch at his shoulders in maddened lust.

“Harder,” she groaned, tugging at shoulder and buttock to encourage him. Ulag needed no second invitation and redoubled his efforts, driving his hard shaft home again and again, with increasing speed and ferocity. He buried the broad fingers of his supporting hand in the grass, digging into the dirt for purchase as he rammed her tight slit, sheathing himself in her with deep, vigorous thrusts.

Thalia lost herself in the wonder of the moment. While her human lovers had known how to please her, those experiences paled in comparison. Ulag was huge. She stared in awe at the massive muscles of his shoulders bunching and releasing as they helped propel his thrusts. She could feel the potential for destruction in him; in his weight, in his strength, and see it in his ferocious features. He was a creature bred for death-dealing. Knowing those potent destructive impulses were held in check - barely - for their mating was a heady dose of aphrodisia. Were anything to go wrong, she would be utterly at his mercy, but at that moment in time, she did not give one solitary fuck.

The blood was pounding in her head now, in time with the frenetic pace of his lovemaking, and she could feel the approach of her climax like the first fingers of lightning heralding a coming storm. Thalia looked down between their bodies to where his member was pistoning in and out of her at a pace no human could sustain, so fast it caused an almost permanent vibration. She glanced up into his eyes, startling amber irises surrounding pupils of jet black, and she knew. She knew that kiss had been more than a thanks for his freedom. And now here he was, a male orc in his prime, finishing what he had started ten years before. 

The orc growled low and sudden, slamming his hips down hard and using his full strength to bury himself balls-deep in her, driving her against the unyielding earth again and again until there was no way to hold back the sensations any longer. The orgasm overwhelmed her. Thalia screamed her pleasure to the hard azure of the morning sky, her muscles clenching tight around his member as she rode out wave after wave of unrelenting ecstasy, and he spilled his hot seed inside her with a primal roar. 

For a long time, Thalia lay twitching on the ground as mini aftershocks wracked her body, rolling her head from side to side and trying to touch her lover everywhere all at once. The insects continued their buzzing and small avian forms whirled overhead, oblivious to what had just happened on the ground. 

Presently, Thalia returned to her senses. The world came back into focus in a wave of sights, sounds, and smells. She glanced up to the dark face above her, framed by curtains of inky black hair, and beaded with sweat from his exertions. He was breathing hard, but looked as relaxed and content as she felt, and a brief smile from her was quickly mirrored on his rough features.

“…Hi,” said Thalia, running a hand over the taut muscles in the back of his arm.

Ulag chuckled, a broad grin lighting up his face and making him appear at least ten times less threatening. “Hello.”

“Fancy some breakfast?”


	2. Ten Thousand Orcs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years after their encounter by the stream, Thalia and Ulag meet again at a time of strife. A human alliance is forged but they cannot hope to defeat their enemies alone. Ten orc tribes have banded together, and their combined might could turn the tables against the enemies of Azeroth, but what price will the orc chieftain put on his aid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I have so many other bits of the wider story romping around in my head, I thought I'd scribble them down. :)

Thalia threw her leg across her horse’s back and dropped to the ground, rather harder than expected. She was carrying a lot of extra weight that evening in the form of weapons and a heavy cloak, and she jarred her knees as she landed. She took pains to hide it from her blonde-haired companion, however. Any show of weakness would just give him an opportunity to sneer at her and to suggest, yet again, that their joint armies should come under his command, not hers.

“This way.” His voice had a nasal tone, and somehow always managed sound condescending, even when speaking of the most innocent of matters. As he led them through the muddy avenue of banners to where a hundred torches flared up ahead, he kept up a low commentary. “They have agreed to hear us tonight thanks to my diplomatic skills. Remember, these are our natural enemies, but try not show your disgust when you see them, or you’ll risk undoing the groundwork I have laid through expert negotiations and hard work.”

In the darkness beside him, Thalia rolled her eyes. Were it not for the two thousand men-at-arms Orin of Gresta had promised to her cause, the Lady Protector of Dinas Hir would have had nothing to do with him. As it was, she was making the ultimate sacrifice to ensure the safety of her people against the foul army that even now massed on their borders.

They strode together to the edge of the camp, where firelight flickered on chain, plate and cloth, and every flat surface was emblazoned with the symbol of the Horde. Thalia sighed inwardly. That it should come to this: not only was she giving her hand in marriage to an obnoxious lord in return for some martial advantage, they were now considering a truce with the very enemies they had spent generations fighting. Her ancestors would be turning in their graves.

Thalia sized up her potential allies as she walked towards the centre of the camp. Sullen, suspicious faces watched their every move, hands twitching on weapon hilts, and teeth bared in malice. She ignored Orin’s repeated glances in her direction, and instead kept her expression calm and neutral. It was not as though she had never laid eyes on an orc before, and she was certainly in no danger of reacting with the hysteria the man beside her seemed to expect. 

“Get a grip on yourself, woman,” came the snide remark, uncalled-for. “And let me do all the talking.”

It was at about that point that Thalia decided she had had just about enough of his attitude, and strode ahead of her spluttering companion to where a group of ten or so Orc Chieftains squatted on huge logs laid out around a firepit. Each wore distinct Clan regalia, some clad in furs and skins, others in plate and chain, all ferocious and deadly. The conversation stalled as she approached. The only sound was that of the crackling fire, and Orin’s hurried attempts to catch her up. 

“Greetings,” he began, flustered and out of breath. “I am, as you know, the reason we are all gath-”

“Who speaks for you?” barked Thalia, cutting across Orin’s monologue before he got himself killed, and locking gazes with each of the chieftains in turn. All eyes turned towards the far side of the fire, where a hulking figure sat in the lee of a large tent, a massive, ornate axe laid across his knees. He raised his head, revealing the usual orcish features; a heavy brow, wide, flared nose, and a broad mouth housing powerful tusks. Black hair hung long on either side of his rough-hewn features, and rose through a metal ring on top of his head to cascade out of sight in a messy horse-tail. Thalia’s jaw dropped. The years had molded her friend in the image of a primeval deity, endowing him with a physique that spoke of devastating strength, and battle scars that spoke of a tenacity that would make Death think twice. Black tattoos crawled across slabby, corded muscle, and every free scrap of flesh was heavy with piercings.

This changed things. There was perhaps more hope in Orin’s hare-brained scheme than she had first thought. Ulag startled her then by rising to his feet in a swift motion and throwing his axe across his shoulder. 

“I do,” growled the orc. 

Dear gods. How had she ever let such a divine creature go? Thalia was suddenly, acutely aware that everyone around the firepit was waiting for her to say something, and that Orin’s incensed expression could have curdled milk. She had been planning to engage with them all, give a speech about shared heritage and shared responsibility, about this being the time to put old grudges aside and work for the good of all folk, but meeting Ulag’s steady gaze, she had other ideas.

“Then I would speak with you. Alone.”

This caused a complete furore. The chieftains leaped up and started to hurl accusations and objections, and Orin grabbed her arm, hissing at her not to be so stupid. Through it all, Thalia and Ulag did not once break eye contact, and at the orc’s curt nod, she wrenched her arm from the lord of Gresta’s bruising grip and followed Ulag into his tent.

The hubbub outside slowly quieted as those assembled realised the decision had been made, and that all they could do now was wait for the outcome. Inside the command tent, Thalia stood watching Ulag as he moved around, stashing his weapon, digging out some tankards, and pouring generous cupfuls of dark, orcish ale. While he was no taller than he had been in their last encounter, there was about him an air of confidence and self-possession that amplified his presence, and made him seem greater in some way. There was however one major change in his physique about which Thalia could not keep quiet, now that she had seen him in better light.

“You’re green,” she remarked.

Ulag stopped with his tankard half-way to his lips and scowled at her from under a lowered brow. “If you like being alive, that’s the last time you’ll mention it.”

Thalia raised her free hand in capitulation. “I didn’t mean to offend.” 

The orc shook his head and seated himself in one of the sturdy oaken chairs dotted between map-covered tables, gesturing for her to take another. “You speak for the human alliance?”

Thalia grimaced at the bitter taste of the orc brew, but swallowed gratefully, relishing the burn. “The City of Dinas Hir stands with the Republic of Gresta against the threat from the east,” she said with a wry grin. 

Ulag snorted. “Then why do you seek our help?” 

“Our scouts have reported seeing a company of thousands, with their numbers growing every day.” Thalia’s gaze misted, recalling the scout’s terrified report. Twisted monstrosities that were part muscle, part metal and a disfigured sorcerer calling forth more of them from some Hell-portal with every passing hour. “These are things birthed from nightmares, Ulag. They threaten our very way of life - not just humans, orcs too - and every other race on Azeroth. This is just the beginning.”

Ulag made a moue, corners of his mouth turning down while he nodded his head. “Fine.”

“What?” demanded Thalia. Had he just agreed to help them? Was it going to be that simple?

“You’re right. We’re all in danger, and we’re going to have to fight them sooner or later. I’d rather march out now and fuck them up while they’re not expecting it.” While Thalia goggled at the unexpected turn of events, he sat forward, forearms resting on his knees and said, “There are ten thousand of us.”

His guest flicked a disbelieving glance at him. “You exaggerate.”

Ulag shook his black-maned head. “I have brought all the clans together under a single banner - my banner. They fight for me now. And so, for you,” he suggested, swallowing another mouthful of ale. “If I tell them to.”

Thalia eyed him cautiously. “What are your terms?”

“We fight together, or we die apart,” observed the orc. 

While Thalia understood his reasoning, she had expected at least some demands or conditions. “So no strings?” she prodded. “No concessions, no land, no spoils?”

The orc harumphed. “We’ll take what we want from the dead, as will your people. There is only one thing I want out of this.”

“What?”

Ulag leaned forward until they were less than a foot apart, one massive, thick-fingered hand resting on the arm of her chair. “I will order the warriors of ten tribes to fight for you, spill their blood, let loose their fury on your enemies, wipe this threat from the face of Azeroth,” he growled.

Thalia held her breath. What would he ask? The lands around Dinas Hir were rich and their trade connections strong, but how much gold was ten thousand engines of destruction worth? Thalia did a quick calculation. All of it.

Ulag leaned in, his hair sliding over a shoulder corded with muscle, jet over jade. “If you let me fuck you again.”

Thalia’s lips parted. He was dangerously close now, pitted tusks inches from her face, amber eyes watching her intently. 

“Ten thousand orcs,” he breathed, his voice a low, hot growl against her ear. It would save so many lives, and in truth, it was such a small price to pay.

“Ten. Thousand. Orcs.” The words rumbled through her, setting nerves tingling and raising goosebumps across her forearms. At that moment in time, there was little she wanted more than to rut again with her orc friend, her Ulag. Her thoughts flew to the day they had spent together, rolling in the meadow-grass, sporting in the cool waters of the stream, lazing under the summer skies and taking endless enjoyment from each other’s bodies. How many nights had she revisited those memories in her mind, while her fingers sought her own heat and brought her to climaxes that never truly satisfied? And now she had the opportunity to experience it again, while adding tenfold to her fighting complement; twentyfold if you considered that each orc was worth at least two human soldiers. The temptation was almost too strong to resist.

There was of course a rather inconvenient truth that she was overlooking. Not only was she promised to a vain, possessive man who would break off the alliance as soon as word reached him, her own army would likely brand her a pariah for consorting with a member of the Horde, and possibly desert. 

“I’m promised to Orin,” she said. Her voice was firm and clear, and betrayed nothing of her inner turmoil.

Ulag leaned back, his look somewhere between bafflement and disgust. “The straw-haired whelp who nearly pissed his pants when he met his first orc?” 

Rather than query Ulag’s colourful description, Thalia replied, “It’s politics, nothing more.”

Ulag snorted. “And if you back out?”

Thalia looked at him askance. “We lose half our army.”

Ulag took a gulp from his tankard. “Sounds like blackmail to me.”

“How is it any different to what you’re proposing?” snapped Thalia.

The orc’s grin was pure, unadulterated smut. “Because you _want_ to pay _my_ price.” Ignoring his companion’s spluttering attempts at denial, he added. “It’s in your scent. Ever since you came in here, you’ve been giving off musk like a she-wolf in heat.”

Thalia leaped to her feet and slammed her tankard down on the table. “To hell with you! This was a stupid idea.”

Ulag caught her before her hand could yank back the tent flap, one massive forearm hooking around her waist and slamming her back against his waiting body, his arousal like a rod of iron against the cleft of her buttocks.

He let her struggle for a while, then when she realised she wasn’t going to win a wrestling contest with a three hundred pound orc, he asked, “Why are you denying it? We both want this.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” huffed Thalia. She had managed to get her fingers under his forearm, but trying to pry loose his grip was akin to digging up the roots of a mountain. She gave up and let her head flop back against his chest. “I’ve told you what’s at stake.” 

“So we’ll keep it a secret,” he said. He slid his free hand under her chin, tilting her head back and gripping her neck lightly. Loosening his hold on her waist, he ran a broad, rough palm down over her hip and cupped her mound, squeezing gently. Her arms free again, Thalia moved to intercept his fingers, but he distracted her before she could act. “You can leave now, if you really want to,” he murmured against her ear. “Just open the tent flap.”

While the flap was within her grasp, Thalia did not relish the idea of revealing to the world at large, and particularly Orin, what Ulag was doing to her just at that moment in time. 

“Secrets have a way of getting out,” she dissented. While her rational mind was telling her this, every other part of her was insisting that of course a secret could be kept. Ulag’s hand was moving with more assurance between her legs, and she could feel a familiar slick warmth, accompanied by delicious tingles that intensified with his every movement.

“Then we’ll have to be very careful,” her companion suggested. At that, the orc began to walk them backwards, holding Thalia by throat and crotch, every step causing little spikes of delight to shoot through her abdomen. 

“And you’ll have to be very quiet,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, sending little waves of gooseflesh across her skin, and ripening her nipples to buds. “Not like last time.”

Thalia gave a soft moan, the only response she was capable of giving at that point. She had lost sight of where they were in the tent, but her back was shortly pressed to soft fur, and Ulag’s huge figure loomed above her, blotting out the light. Within a few short moments, the orc had divested her of her boots and pants, and lost no time in burying his head between her thighs.

Thalia reached her arms up above her head to knot in the furs piled onto the rough wooden bedframe, her body undulating and rocking in time with the movements of her lover’s broad tongue. He had evidently learned some new tricks since their last meeting, and he alternated his laving of her nethers with a slow, torturous sucking of her clit. The woman crossed her arms over her face, trying to control her breathing and keep her vocal reactions to a minimum, but it was hard. Ulag made it harder still a moment later when he slowly slid two thick fingers inside her, parted them, and began to slather her sensitive lips with his wide, wet tongue. She pressed her forearm to her mouth to try to muffle the sounds she was desperate to make. Her entire lower body felt charged with electricity, and the storm was about to break.

Abruptly, Ulag withdrew his fingers and raised his head, wiping his chin of her juices. Grinning at his companion’s glower of disappointment, he stood and pulled her around so that her head hung over the edge of the bed. 

“We need to be quiet,” he admonished, with a smile that would have put a demon to shame. Dropping his pants, he freed his erection, and Thalia caught her breath. It was bigger than she had remembered, close in size and girth to her own forearm, crawling with plump veins, and wet at the end from his own juice. Realising belatedly what he intended, Thalia positioned herself so that he could press his bulbous head against her lips. She licked the end, lavishing the smooth skin with wet caresses from an agile tongue, until he pressed forward with his hips, seating the head inside her mouth. Thalia felt instantly stuffed. It was huge, and completely filled the space behind her teeth. She continued to run her tongue around the end, licking and sucking while she accustomed herself to his size. Barely had she done so when Ulag pressed forward again, stretching her jaw wide to accommodate another few inches of his length. Thalia’s eyes rolled as she tried to breathe around the invading member, but despite the discomfort, she was aware of increased wetness between her legs, and a stronger desire for more intimate contact. 

Above her, Ulag grunted and leaned forward, propping himself up on his arms as he again lowered his face to her crotch. The angle of his entry changed slightly, causing Thalia to gag, but she adjusted her position to be able to better handle his gentle thrusts. For a while after that, Thalia lost her mind. She was aware of nothing but the intensifying pleasure between her legs and the stifling pressure on her mouth and throat that were combining to drive her wild. When her lover again introduced two fat fingers, then three, and began to pump her womanhood with steady, rhythmic thrusts, Thalia grabbed hold of Ulag’s taut buttocks, and began to pull on him with the same tempo. Ulag responded with a low groan that vibrated through her core, adding fuel to a blaze that was about to become an inferno. The orc’s thrusts with fingers and cock increased until they were at breakneck speed, and everything was blinding, wet heat, until at last, the combination of his tongue on her clit, his fingers buried in her to the last knuckle, and his manhood filling her mouth were too much. Thalia gave a muffled scream around the stifling gag of his cock, jolting violently against his mouth, the release almost more than she could bear. She was aware, dimily, of Ulag emptying his balls down her throat and roaring his own pleasure against her slit, but that was in another world. It was a world she cared about, sure enough, but one she could only dimly perceive through the obscuring veil of her own orgasm. 

When the two had disentangled themselves and fallen back, spent on the pile of furs, Thalia found herself becoming anxious at what they had just done. This could end the existing alliance with Gresta, cause friction and dissent in her own ranks, and maybe bring about the downfall of her people. At that moment, Ulag hauled her against his side, pulling her leg across his and bringing her head to rest in the crook of his shoulder. She breathed in the scent of him. Blood and iron. Ale and earth. It had been worth it.


	3. The Art of Making a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulag and Thalia continue their 'negotiations'.

Ulag felt Thalia’s eyes on him as he moved around the command tent, rifling through parchments and papers, and refilling their tankards. He felt more relaxed than he had done in many a long month, and her attentions and company were a large part of that. Uniting ten tribes of fractious orcs had been the challenge of a lifetime, but by dint of tenacity and demonstrations of strength, both of which Ulag had in spades, he had won over each one of the ambitious chieftains. Despite a great sense of achievement, recently he had been feeling there was something missing. After the death of his last mate some five years previously, Ulag had eschewed intimate relationships and focused on his tribe’s status and victories. He had found many willing partners to share his bed for the occasional evening’s diversion, but he had never felt the need to prolong those associations. Now with Thalia back in his life, he was starting to rethink his plans. 

He glanced sidelong at his companion, reclining among the furs on his bed, flushed from their exertions, and considered what it would be like to spend every night like this. They could plan and strategise together now that their interests were aligned, and then Ulag could spend the rest of the night in what was fast becoming his favourite pastime: burying his manhood in Thalia’s yielding flesh. The very thought caused a twitch in his loins, and glancing from the paper in his hand back to the alluring creature on his bed, Ulag hit upon a plan. He grabbed a chair and seated himself in it, patting his knee to ask Thalia to join him. 

Thalia cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him, and asked, “Really?”

“You came here to negotiate, didn’t you?” he asked, raising the parchment in his hand. On it were written the terms of their alliance, which he had asked a scribe to draft after Orin’s initial visit. 

Warm, soft skin slid against his thigh as she perched herself on him with a reproachful look. Another twitch. He slipped an arm around her back to rest on her thigh, and handed her the paper. While she glanced over it, he used his free hand to toy with her silky black hair and stroke over the smooth muscles in her upper arm. While built quite differently from Orc females, his Thalia was no weakling, and he spotted the odd battle scar on arm and hand that had not been there when last they had met. Grinning at her attempts to concentrate, he ran his hand up her thigh and slid it in to nestle between her legs, shying away from full contact. He felt her take a shaky breath and mutter aloud the words written before her in an attempt to ignore his actions.

Ulag busied himself in dropping warm kisses against her shoulder while she read, turning them to nibbles every so often, just to ensure she didn’t become complacent. Eventually she glanced over her shoulder to glare at him.

“You’re not helping!” she accused.

Ulag found it ever so amusing that she would think his actions were designed to help her concentrate, and feigned innocence until she returned to her study of the agreement. He propped his chin on her shoulder, to all appearances reading along with her, then when she least expected it, he slipped his hand further in between her legs. His fingers slid against flesh that was already slick, and in a single, unrelenting movement, he buried his middle digit in her to the root. Thalia wobbled on his leg like a puppet with loose strings, and the paper flopped, forgotten in her hand.

She craned her neck around to look at him, eyes glazing, mouth opening and closing but issuing no words. Her gaze fell on his chest, and he sensed her increased arousal as she let her eyes wander over his form. 

“Do those hurt?” she asked, out of the blue. Ulag guessed she meant his nipple rings, judging from where she was looking at the time. This woman just did not stop giving him ideas.

“Just the opposite,” he replied. Running his free hand from her hip up towards her breast, he asked, “Would you like to know what they feel like?”

Thalia was beyond answering at this point, so he ran his rough palm over the hardened bud of her left nipple and then grasped it gently between thumb and forefinger. Holding her gaze with his, he slowly increased the pressure until her head lolled, then he stopped, maintaining the hold. The middle finger of his other hand was soaked with her fluids now, and her breathing was erratic. She was writhing about in his lap, strongly aroused by the intense pressure on her nipple and his invading digit. Ulag glanced down to see his actions had had a similar effect on him, and, creature of impulse that he was, he acted immediately. Withdrawing his finger and releasing his hold, he lifted his companion by the hips and placed her squarely on the end of his cock. She grabbed onto his forearms for balance, and then he began to reduce his support of her frame, letting gravity do his work for him. Inch by inch his member was enveloped by hot, tight wetness, causing his own head to fall back in delight. He continued until her buttocks met his hips and he was sheathed in her to the hilt.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only movement was the flickering torchlight; the only sounds the low hubub of conversation from outside and the soft crack of wind-lifted canvas. Thalia’s hand moved to grasp his where it rested on her hip, and squeezed encouragingly. At her unspoken suggestion, Ulag lifted his hips from the chair, raising his companion’s feet from the ground, and causing her to wobble and giggle at his antics. With a decisive grunt the orc chief stood, Thalia still impaled on his member, and shuffled them across to a nearby table, where the woman immediately leaned forward to grasp the sturdy wooden structure, grateful for the support. He grabbed both her hips in his massive,callused hands and teased her with tiny thrusts that did little more than frustrate her, judging by her reproachful growls and her attempts to push back against him. 

“Patience,” he hissed. “One of many lessons your stories taught me.”

He watched her sag at his words, and smiled to himself. In truth, he could no more wait than she could. He ran one hand across the smooth expanse of her back, and down over her pert buttock, then drew it back to catch the rounded muscle with a sharp, playful slap. Thalia jerked upright in his arms and turned to scowl at him.

“Shush, you fool!”

It was true that a sound like that could attract attention: if anyone were to open the tent flap at that moment, they would see them, orc and human, locked together in an unmistakeable position. His bed, on the other hand, was behind a screen of wood and hide, and would at least offer them a chance to dissemble should they be interrupted. Ulag marched them back over to the pile of furs, causing more giggles, and dropped his lover face first into them. Her head landed in a dip, while her hips were on a mound, just perfect for his plans. Ulag instantly began to fuck her hard, hilting himself in her repeatedly until the bed was shaking. He noted Thalia had the furs gripped tight in one white-knuckled fist, and that she was struggling to keep her position under the force of his immense weight hammering her into the bed. The orc relented. He had let his nature get the better of him for a moment. Withdrawing, he flipped his lover over and kicked away the mounds of coverings until she lay waiting beneath him with lips and legs parted eagerly.

Grasping his rod, he eased himself back into her warm depths, savouring her tight grip, and the changing expressions on her face as he sank into her, inch by torturous inch. He propped himself on an elbow and used his free hand to stroke over the smooth curves of hip and waist, then up to cup and squeeze the soft mounds of flesh at her chest. Through it all, he delighted in the stifled groans of pleasure she could not help but make, and the expressions of deep need on her face that were slowly turning to fulfilment.

At that moment, her eyes fluttered open, she met his gaze, and something went through the orc warchief like a thunderbolt. Ulag felt as though he were in the eye of a storm, where lightning and thunder rolled all around him, about to sear, blind and deafen him with their force. In all the world, there was nothing but those eyes, that beautiful body undulating beneath him, and the unmatched ecstasy of her womanhood squeezing his cock.

It struck him then that without her influence, he might never have rallied the tribes to his banner. Her teachings had, albeit unwittingly on her part, instilled in him the values of patience, perseverance, honour, and of holding one’s temper. They had taught him to strive for a higher purpose, leading him to unite warring tribes instead of fighting them. While he was by his very nature an impulsive creature, these lofty goals and ability to see beyond the petty squabblings of one tribe against the next set him apart from most of his race. Without her, he might be dead in a turf war, or sitting on a throne made of the skulls of other orc chiefs, head of a powerful single tribe while thousands lay needlessly dead. Or he might never have become a leader at all.

Thalia interrupted his epiphany with a warm touch against his cheek. “Are you alright?”

“I-” Ulag choked on his words. There was so much he wanted to say that the enormity of it dwarfed him, and Ulag was not used to being dwarfed. All he knew was that this creature pinned beneath him embodied simultaneously his reason for being, and everything he now wanted from life. It was too much to process, and too much to articulate. But he could show her. Ulag moved his hips up, angling them slightly so he was hitting that sweet spot inside as well as adding stimulation to her outer nerves. His companion’s eyes widened and she grasped his shoulders, pulling and twisting at the flesh with the urgency of her need. He slipped his supporting arm beneath her and rested his other palm against her cheek, keeping her gaze directed towards him. They were both already in a state of high arousal, and Ulag felt his climax closing on him with the unstoppable force of a tidal wave. He moved in her with deep, rhythmic thrusts, taking her with him as he ascended towards the peak, eyes locked on one another, until the moment she came undone in his arms, forcing him over the edge with her. Thalia cried out, loud against his ear, and he moved his hand to muffle her screams while he found his own release, her clenching womanhood milking him of every last drop.

For a while Ulag rested his head against his lover’s shoulder, until he became aware that Thalia was still moaning and twitching beneath him. He raised a tousled head to see what she was about, and saw that she was still in the throes of a violent orgasm, one that didn’t appear to be ending or decreasing in intensity.

“Can’t … won’t … stop,” squeaked Thalia, thrashing her head around and gasping for air.

Ulag permitted himself a measure of smug satisfaction. She was still coming. With a grin so sinful it bordered on malicious, he took one of her nipples in his tusked mouth and began to roll and suck at it with abandon. He withdrew his cock, which had yet to soften, then re-entered her, slowly and deliberately, wrenching another climax from his astounded lover. With a mixture of his hands, mouth and manhood, he coaxed another four crescendos from her exhausted body before she protested and asked him to stop.

“Ask me nicely,” suggested Ulag, laving her nipple with broad, dexterous tongue.

“Please,” breathed Thalia.

“Please what?”

“Please stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Bastard.”

“Suit yourself,” said Ulag, and resumed the gentle scissoring motion of his fingers that was causing such consternation.

“Uhhhf, fine, stop … making me come,” Thalia capitulated.

“Spoilsport,” chuckled Ulag. With a final, treacherous movement of his thumb, he sent her over the edge again.

When Thalia had finally calmed and recovered, Ulag regretfully left the warmth and comfort of his lover’s embrace and began to get dressed. They had been ‘negotiating’ a long while, and someone’s patience was bound to run out soon. It was best that they act before that moment was reached. He found the discarded paper and let her read the full detail of the accord unmolested, then Thalia agreed and made her mark, as did he. Now fully dressed and standing at the tent doorway, Thalia hesitated. Her weighted look told him all he needed to know, but he shook his head to forestall whatever she might say. He was not sure he was ready to hear it. Instead he took her small hand in his, their fingers interlacing easily despite the difference in size, and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. It was the only goodbye they could allow themselves, and with that, Thalia ventured out to speak to those assembled.

The news went down quite well, all things considered. The Blackhearts briefly toyed with revolt, but one stern glare from the Chief of Chiefs was enough to quell their resentment. Thalia’s intended, Orin, looked less than pleased at her success, but had no valid gripe to raise, and so went quietly when Thalia signalled their departure. When the human contingent had gone and Ulag was certain the tribes were not going to revolt or erupt into violence, Torug, his second-in-command who had been standing next to them as Thalia announced the alliance, motioned him into the command tent.

“Will this take long, Torug?” asked Ulag, picking up his abandoned drink. “I am weary.”

Torug fixed him with a concerned glare that was quite out of place on the face of his stoic second. “What the hell happened?”

Ulag looked at him askance over the rim of his tankard. “We negotiated,” he responded. How much had the orc heard? And had any others also picked up on the truth? Ulag doubted it. If the orc warriors sitting outside had figured out he had been in the command tent bedding their potential new ally, they would have emerged to rowdy applause, not expectant silence.

Torug’s face paled and he swallowed hard, clearly preparing for the worst. “Did you … rape her?”

Ulag gaped at his old friend, then incensed, slammed down his drink, spilling dark ale onto the scuffed boards of the table. “Of course I didn’t fucking rape her! Why the fuck would you think that?”

Torug raised his hands in a calming gesture, but his face retained its suspicious cast. “Her scent, Ulag. It’s all over you - and yours was on her.”

Ulag shook his head with a resigned sigh and ran a hand through his shock of black hair. He had hoped that no-one would be standing close enough to Thalia to notice before she was able to leave. Sometimes the orcs’ overdeveloped sense of smell was a curse. Well, there was no point hiding it now. He could either let his staunch friend believe he was a rapist, or tell the truth. Neither option appealed. “It’s Thalia,” he said, fixing the other with a meaningful glare.

Torug frowned, then his eyes widened and he asked, ”Your Thalia?”

“ _My_ Thalia,” Ulag confirmed.

Torug nodded in understanding. Deep in his cups, Ulag had once waxed lyrical about Thalia, the human girl-child who had befriended him as an orphaned orc, kept him from going insane and instilled in him a sense of nobility and heroism. Thalia, who had given him the best day of his life, rutting with him beneath the heat of the summer sun, and lying tangled in his arms beneath the stars and moons. Ulag had vouchsafed this information to no-one but Torug. 

“Her husband-to-be won’t be too happy about that,” Torug commented. At Ulag’s questioning glance, he added, “Orin mentioned their betrothal. Repeatedly.”

Ulag glowered then smiled a grim smile. “We’ll see. They’re not wed yet. And anything can happen in the thick of battle.” He chuckled and drained his tankard. If the young lord in question could have seen the look on the orc chieftain’s face at that particular moment in time, he would have started running and not stopped until the day he died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a time when I would have written out the entire backstory in chronological order, but now I'm just showing it in flashbacks so I can spend more time writing smut. I'm so lazy. And smutty. XD


	4. Of men and Beasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia gets to know her future husband a little better, and orcs and humans band together to fight the horrors coming through the Portal.

Night insects chirruped and soft breezes stirred the trees and grass as Orin and Thalia made their way out of the orc camp. They found their horses tethered at the end of the avenue of torches, just where they had left them. Orin had been silent since they left the gathering of orc chieftains behind, and in the short time she had known him, Thalia had come to understand that it heralded nothing good. Usually verbose and self-involved, if Orin wasn’t extolling his own perceived virtues, you could be sure he was enlarging some imagined slight in his mind to gargantuan proportions.

“I was half expecting them to have eaten our horses while we waited.” Orin’s snide tone matched the sneer on his face, clearly visible in the light of the flickering torches.

“That wouldn’t have been a good negotiating tactic,” Thalia commented, freeing her horse’s bridle and rubbing his long nose in greeting. Seeing that Orin was about to bluster out a response, she added, “Besides, you’d already done all the groundwork. Success was assured, was it not? What reason would they have to harm their chances at an alliance at this juncture?”

Orin opened and closed his mouth, perhaps realising she had used his own words against him. His face turned dark and before she realised what he intended, he had backhanded her across the face. Thalia stood in stunned silence for a moment. She had taken far worse knocks through the years, so it was not the force that bothered her, it was the fact he had felt the need to do it at all. 

A moment later, his fist was in her hair, pulling her head to one side and forcing her close to his face. He was simply seething with anger, and Thalia’s attempts to grab his hand and free her hair only seemed to enrage him further. 

He raised his other hand and pointed threateningly at her face. “Don’t question me.”

Thalia gaped at him in confusion, surprise and pain. She had evidently hit a nerve somewhere. He pulled her closer until his lips were almost touching hers.

“Don’t. Ever. Question. Me.” He spat each word out from between gritted teeth. Orin held her there for a moment or two longer, looking her over with an unfathomable expression on his narrow, angular features. Presently, he released her roughly, and mounted his horse.

“Quickly, woman,” he snapped. 

Fuming and confused, Thalia clambered up onto her horse and kicked him into motion. It would not do to let this situation stand. Orin had a wasp up his arse about something and she intended to find out what.

“Have I done something to offend, Lord Orin?” Thalia asked as their horses picked their way along the dirt track. She heard him mutter ‘idiot’ under his breath, but held her tongue.

“You undermined me tonight, Lady Protector. Do not do that again.”

So he was annoyed that she had stolen his thunder. Surely a quick, easy agreement where they got everything they had wanted from their new alliance was something to be celebrated, no matter who had obtained it? Perhaps a little context might help him understand her decision. It was dangerous, but then so was any other course of action, if tonight’s little scene was anything to go by.

“I know him. The orc chieftain.”

Orin’s horse stilled as he tugged on the reins. “What do you mean, you know him? How could you know an orc?” Orin’s tone conveyed his disgust.

“I …” Thalia considered which parts of their association might be safe for consumption. “…Saved his life as a child. He was in my debt.”

The horse picked up the pace again. For a while, they rode in silence. High above, wisps of cloud scudded across the faces of the moons. 

“So you were in there all that time … reminding him that he owed you?” asked Orin. Suspicion was clear in his tone now. 

Thalia replied, “We were negotiating. And yes, the subject of a debt to be paid was part of those negotiations.” Whilst her statement might have been a little misleading, it was not untrue. By now they had reached the human camp, and when they had dismounted, Orin took her arm and steered her towards his tent, ushering her inside.

“Get undressed,” he barked, tugging at the laces on his bracers as though they were the cause of his anger. Thalia tensed, feeling fury and indignation rise inside her. How easy it would be to slip a knife between his ribs. In the years she spent tracking down her family’s murderers, she had felled innumerable men and other more dangerous creatures on a daily basis. She had no compunction about killing another. But she had made a promise, and she needed the fighting force he had offered her in return for her hand. Ulag had called it blackmail, but in truth, he wanted no more than the orc had. Why then did this feel so different?

In the course of her ruminations, Orin had stripped to the waist. Thalia had to admit the man was in good shape. Broad, muscular shoulders jutted above a tapering torso that ended in a narrow waist, and his arms were toned and strong. Golden-blonde hair topped a thin face with a strong chin, sharp jutting cheekbones and hollowed cheeks. Objectively, the man was quite attractive, but he paled into insignificance in comparison with the powerhouse of an orc with whom she had spent such a pleasurable evening.

“I said, ‘get undressed’!” snapped Orin, features twisted into a rictus of indignation. He was evidently used to being obeyed instantly and without question.

Thalia dissembled. It was the only politic thing to do. “Do you not want to wait until we’re wed, Lord Orin? It’s the custom where I come from.” While this was true, it wasn’t a value that Thalia had ever held.

Orin thought about that for a moment. “It is also the custom where I come from,” he admitted. Although he might have a temper, it seemed some of his lordly upbringing at least had been in matters of culture. He tilted his head, glaring at her imperiously down the length of his nose. “Give me the agreement.”

Thalia’s hand fluttered instinctively to where the rolled parchment was tucked into her belt. She felt an irrational possessiveness about it, given its provenance, and the thought of turning it over to this spoilt, fickle lord made her instantly rebellious. “I was going to keep it in our command tent.”

Orin’s face went from calm to furious in the blink of an eye. “I said give it to me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you opposing me at every turn? Are you taking some sort of perverse pleasure from this?”

“No, I just think-”

Orin swore explosively and swept his arm across a nearby table, showering the floor with papers, candles and writing implements. His outburst was over as soon as it had begun. He ran a hand through his hair and breathed out slowly, calming himself. He looked at her with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Why must you make me so angry? Look what you made me do.”

Thalia was starting to wonder what in seven hells she had gotten herself into. Was this the future to which she had committed herself? Regardless, it had been an exhausting evening, physically, mentally and emotionally, and she was in no mood to suffer any further indignities at the hands of the mercurial Orin.

“I am tired, my lord.” Thalia dropped the agreement onto the cleared table and inclined her head in a show of deference. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off to bed for some much needed rest, as should you. We march at dawn. Sleep well.” And with that, she ducked out of the tent before he could respond.

——

The night brought heavy rains that left the world feeling a cleaner place than it had been the night before. Tiny, fragile summer flowers had bloomed overnight in the cracks of parched rocks, and the grasses that edged the dirt tracks were lush and green in the pale dawn light. But it was not the wonders of nature that left Thalia speechless that morning. She had never imagined what ten thousand orcs would look like - she had never had a reason to. Now that battle formations were underway, she had a whole new appreciation for the sheer numbers Ulag had put at her disposal. From her vantage point atop a small rise some mile or so away from the Portal, she had an unrivalled view of the ten tribes, massed together into well-trained units. A cool morning breeze stirred the banners of each clan, and at the forefront flew a black wolf on a red field, the sigil of Ulag’s War Wolves.

As she watched, the two human contingents joined, flanking the central block of orcs. Although they brought cavalry, they were still dwarfed by the bristling army of green-skinned killing machines. Orin joined her a moment later, his destrier tossing its head and champing at its bit under the man’s tight rein. The Lord of Gresta did not so much as glance in her direction, keeping his sour visage directed at the moving mass of soldiers below. At that moment, a dark shadow fell across her, and a glance to her left revealed an enormous black wolf, standing some seven feet high at the shoulder, with spikes bristling from metal bands at its throat and feet. Thalia gasped aloud and both horses darted a few paces to the side, skittish in the presence of the enormous predator. The wolf turned, revealing his rider, and Ulag aimed a smug smile in her direction.

“Today is a good day to kill,” he called.

Laughing in relief, Thalia nodded and hoisted her lance. “No time like the present.”

The three rode down together to join the other chiefs and captains where they waited for them in the field. Their strategy already agreed, it only remained now to march the final mile to the Portal, and send their foul enemies back where they came from. As they rounded the last bend in the canyon that opened out onto the Portal plain, the commanders called a halt. Thalia’s jaw dropped for the second time in less than an hour. Although she had heard first-hand accounts from her scouts about the size of both the Portal and the army summoned through it, it had in no way prepared her for the sight that met her eyes. The Portal itself stood a hundred feet high and was formed of purple, crackling energy. Through it at regular intervals stumbled horrors birthed from the dark; bipedal nightmares of skin and bone with the heads of skeletal birds; giant men with arms of metal and heads of stone; hideous arachnid creatures that dripped venom from fangs as long as a man’s arm, and things whose flesh sloughed from their bones even as they entered the world, but who somehow still kept moving. Everywhere there was acrid purple smoke, and the air reverberated with a hideous cacophony of screaming and roaring, as though every last creature on that plain was murderous and insane.

As her horrified gaze swept the area, Thalia noted other creatures lining the rocky walls, with leathern or skeletal wings that warned of aerial attack as well as ground. Her gut filled with ice. They were outnumbered. She knew that others had come to the same conclusion as concerned mutterings began to sound among the assembled, and words like ‘hopeless’ and ‘suicide’ began to circulate. She chanced a look to her right to see that Orin’s jaw was working spasmodically, his face pale. On her left, Ulag was repeatedly changing his grip on his axe, his teeth bared in challenge.

The din was fading. They had been spotted. There was no turning back now. It was at that moment that Ulag roared a battle-cry that sent a bolt of electricity into her chest. It was a call that was not to be denied. In it was a reassurance that they were fierce, that they were mighty, and that they would take their dues in blood before the sun set. It gave her strength, and raised the orc even further in her esteem. No wonder so many had rallied to fight for him. But now there was no more time for speculation. The charge was on, and, in accordance with their plans, the first contingent funneled through the exit from the canyon, out onto the plain to engage with the Portal spawn.

Beside her, Ulag’s wolf paced left and right, growling and snapping. She understood his frustration - she too wanted to join the fray, but for the moment, they needed to watch and command. The first wave of orcs were acquitting themselves well, keeping tight formations and driving a wedge into the disorganised mass of creatures outside the Portal. At a call from one of the other chiefs, the second wave joined the fight, at which point Ulag and his wolf could apparently contain themselves no longer and launched themselves at the battle in a bristling black ball of destruction.

Thalia’s heart pounded. These things threatened her way of life, and they, the warriors of Gresta, Dinas Hir and ten tribes of orcs were all that stood between the folk of Azeroth and potential annihilation. Her hand itched to wield her lance and bury it deep in the foul chest of some foe, just to see if it bled. Her horse sensed her agitation and reared beneath her, startling her companion who cursed at her and told her to keep her horse under control.

“I’m going in.” Thalia’s eyes flashed as she brought her spirited mount back to heel.

Orin was incensed and sputtered his protest. “My men should not see my bride fighting her own battles. It’s … _common_.”

Thalia vented an annoyed breath. _Well you’re not going to bloody fight them for me, are you?_ Voicing her thoughts would only make matters worse between her and her future husband, she knew, and so she kept them to herself.

“Not that these fools know anything about battle tactics. Do you see how my men constantly corral the others, keeping them in formation? I taught them that. Without order, there can be no victory.”

Thalia rolled her eyes. His soldiers’ actions were pointless. They would have better served the army as a whole by actually fighting, but she doubted Orin could stop congratulating himself on his cleverness for long enough to see it.

“You can stay here if you want, Orin, I’m going to fight for the people I care about.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You won’t last two seconds-” he began.

“I’d rather die fighting out there than sitting here watching others die for me,” Thalia asserted. 

“Then you’re more of an imbecilic quim than I thought,” yelled Orin. But he was yelling it at her departing back as Thalia galloped off to join the fight.

Orin’s company was like a restrictive corset, Thalia reflected. She had tried one once and thrown it away the same day, swearing never to wear one again. How was one supposed to breathe, or move, or fight? So it was with Orin. As soon as she had moved out of his presence, the world opened up and the air seemed to fill her lungs again. Raising her lance, she levelled it at the nearest foe, and some red-skinned, vaguely avian humanoid with pincers where its mouth should be was skewered by the force of her charge. Blood fountained from the wound and sprayed both her and her mount as she rode past. Yanking her weapon free, she took out another three in like fashion before it got wedged in a chest cavity and she was forced to abandon it. Unsheathing the twin curved blades at her hips, she changed her grip on her mount so she could guide him with her knees, and rode a bloody path through a hundred enemies with a roar on her lips that echoed Ulag’s battle-cry. Turning with dripping blades, she surveyed the damage. Not bad for her first few minutes. A deep voice called her name and she traced the sound to the orc himself, seated astride his mount not thirty feet away. The pair were positively drenched in blood, to the point where Thalia half-wondered if they’d been bathing in it, and the wolf’s mouth was dripping red with gore.

Thalia had seen Ulag in many settings: sad and alone in her father’s dungeon, wild and free under a summer sky, and more recently, carrying the weight of responsibility as the chief of ten tribes. Here, in the thick of battle, bloodstained and fierce astride his ferocious wolf, she saw him as though for the first time in his true element, and he was nothing short of perfection. He was the primordial fighter whose fury would change the course of the world, the leader the tribes of Azeroth needed to inspire and guide them against apocalyptic enemies, and this force of nature, this creature who would be legend, _he wanted her_. It was enough to drive a person insane with delight.

At that moment, Ulag raised a bloody axe in salute, and roared out the orc victory cry, celebrating her kills. Those around him who were not fully engaged with enemies took up the call, until the noise was almost deafening. Thalia was taken aback, but incredibly proud and pleased, and she tipped Ulag a salute before diving back into the fray. Thalia soon decided she had a better feel for the way the tide of battle was flowing from down here. She observed the way Orin’s men were acting like herd-dogs, and how the orcs were carrying the lion’s share of the fighting. She also noted that while they might all be fighting on the same side, they were not fighting together, and many were the occasions when an orc might have prevented a Grestan soldier’s death, and vice versa, but the opportunity was passed up. Cutting her way back up to where she had last seen Ulag, she spotted him atop a jutting rock. As she approached he swung his axe out to one side, flinging ropes of blood and entrails from its edge.

“Ulag!” she called, making sure he spotted her before she approached him. He tossed his head in greeting and she cantered up to him. Up close his presence was even harder to bear. It was as though battle charged him with some vital energy that made being near him akin to standing in the full glare of the midday sun. War paint streaked across his skin, interweaving with his tattoos and the rivulets of blood that coursed over his green hide. His great chest rose and fell as evidence of his exertions, and a fierce joy marked his features. He looked so … _alive_. For a moment, Thalia was lost for words. When she did not immediately speak, Ulag turned to examine her and his knowing grin suggested the damned orc was a mind-reader. Pulling herself together, Thalia explained what she had seen.

“I saw it too,” Ulag remarked, one eye ever on the battle.

“Then will you tell them to change tactics?” she demanded. “If they will work together with us, and defend us where needed, I will tell our fighters to do the same.”

The orc’s eyes roved over the battle, his hand twitching on his axe every so often. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

Damn that stubborn hide! “Can we change the terms?” she asked, enunciating every word.

Ulag finally deigned to meet her eyes. “Of course.”

Thalia slumped in relief.

“But it’ll cost you.”

It would have been a lie to say that Thalia did not feel a tingle of excitement at his words, but she did not relish having to hide more indiscretions from her future husband. Unsure whether she was happy about it or not, Thalia nodded her agreement. At the very least, lives would be saved in both the orc and human contingents. Ulag cast one final, smouldering glance in her direction, then hefting his massive war-axe aloft, he yelled a challenge at some undead behemoth that was smashing through their ranks and charged it down in a rush of teeth and steel. Thalia chuckled to herself and shook her head as the creature was bifurcated by Ulag’s blade. Before the might of the orc Chief of Chiefs, no-one and nothing stood a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut this chapter, sorry! But double helpings next time. :D I've already got most of the next chapter written, so will hopefully update in the next few days.
> 
> I may have to rename this fic though. It was supposed to be a cathartic one-shot about a roll in the hay and now my stupid saga-spinning brain is throwing seventeen gallons of details at me and demanding I write them all down. :/


	5. For Duty and Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normal orc smut service is resumed. With added angst.
> 
> Update 8th June: minor updates to the flow of the last scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long one this time (fnarr). I couldn't find a suitable spot to split it.

“They’ll be calling that ‘Thalia’s Ride’,” came a deep voice from just behind her shoulder.

Ulag approached her on foot, walking alongside the rest of their exhausted warriors as they left the field of battle for the day. Thalia guessed he was referring to her headlong charge through the enemy ranks, and she could not help but smile. It was also a reference back to the stories of their shared childhood moments, where each tale of heroism had elements that warranted grand titles, like Konrad’s Ascent, or Elira’s Sacrifice. While not many of those stories had entirely happy endings, the message was often the importance of taking the risk, no matter the cost. That was exactly how Thalia had felt about her ride through the gauntlet of monsters earlier that day. 

“You’re forgetting ‘Ulag’s Charge’,” she replied. In fairness, that could have referred to any one of the countless acts of self-endangerment Ulag had performed over the course of the day.

“Either way, Torug there will probably write a song about it.” He indicated his second-in-command with a tilt of his head. Torug wandered past singing an impromptu ditty that called Ulag’s parentage into question and Thalia giggled.

Ulag swore with a grin that betrayed his amusement. “He’ll pay for that.”

The orc had closed the gap between them now, his frame silhouetted by the sanguine rays of the setting sun. His skin was mottled with blood, warpaint and tattoos, and his great axe was thrown over one shoulder. Thalia’s heart skipped a beat. Ulag’s very presence had a tendency to make her come undone in the sweetest possible way, but she quietly resented them both for that. She did not welcome the thought that she had a true weakness in a single individual, and more, that he might know about it. It was then she noted that he was holding something in his other hand, half-hidden behind his back. At her inquisitive glance, he gave a wry smile and proffered it to her.

“Not much in the way of loot,” he commented. “These things don’t seem to have weapons, armour or trinkets.”

In her early days on the adventurer’s path, Thalia had grabbed every last jewel, rusty discarded dagger or bit of worn leather armour she could lay her hands on. Sometimes it was the only way to buy what she needed, but over the years as she had grown in both influence and affluence, the gleam of gold had ceased to catch her eye. What Ulag handed her, however, was beyond gold or jewels.

“I took it from one of the first … things … that you killed,” he explained. “What do we call them?” It was an honest question. They as yet had no language to describe these otherworldly monstrosities.

“Lizard… bird-man with … pincers for teeth?” Thalia suggested. In truth she was more than a little distracted by what Ulag had just given her, so monster nomenclature wasn’t foremost in her mind. It was a claw, cut cleanly from one of the hand of one of the lizard-bird beasts, the end wrapped tightly in a leather thong to make a primitive pendant.

“In my tribe, a warrior takes a trophy from his or her first kill,” he explained. “We all have one. I …” he broke off, something deeper lurking behind his eyes and threatening to come out. He marshaled himself and finished, “I thought you should have one too.”

Thalia closed her fingers around it and gave a nod of gratitude. It took most of her self-control not to throw her arms around him and kiss him in thanks for this gift, but there were far too many witnesses. To her surprise, Ulag held his hand out as though to take it back from her. An unpleasant thought was already taking root in her mind. Humans did not take trophies in this way and if Thalia were to walk back into camp wearing what was ostensibly orcish jewelry, she doubted it would be well received. Reluctantly, she handed it back. He surprised her again by stepping behind her, dropping the claw to her chest and knotting the cord at the back. His fingers brushed her neck as he closed the knot, causing lines of gooseflesh to erupt on her arms along with a few other, less visible reactions.

He turned her around to face him and gave a smile of approval. “Better. Now let’s get back to camp and break out the ale!” His rousing cry was taken up by everyone in earshot, orc and human alike. As they made their way back through the canyon, she heard him call out individuals for their deeds, celebrating their success, or teasing them for some foolhardy stunt, most of it couched in coarse and colourful language. The more she watched the way the assembled crowd reacted to his banter, the more she realised how much they respected him, and how good he was for their morale. Considering how many had been muttering about the mission being ‘suicide’ that morning, he had certainly turned the mood around.

In sharp contrast to the cameraderie of the march home, the atmosphere in the command tent that night was dour and fractious. Human and orc commanders had gathered to debrief and discuss the next day’s tactics, and suffice to say, things were not going well. Talk had quickly turned to the lack of cohesion between their forces, and there was evidence of a racial divide that was in danger of widening to a chasm. Accusations abounded, and the room was clearly split between the orc and human commanders, each vying for their voice and viewpoint to be heard. Thalia’s heart sank as each of them spoke, but she knew this was never going to be easy. Nothing truly worthwhile ever was.

“All I’m saying is, we’ve always done it this way, so why change now?” The old Blackheart chief was nothing if not stuck in his ways, and the idea of risking orcish lives to save a human appeared to be anathema to him.

“We’d have lost far less men if those fucking green-skins had held their own.” A snide remark from one of Orin’s officers, a man Thalia did not know overly well, but on closer examination, his features were like enough to the Grestan Lord’s to suggest they might be kin.

“Held our own?! At least we were fighting instead of running around getting in the way and shouting orders no-one understood!” Torug had a point, she conceded. That part of Orin’s approach at the very least needed a rethink.

“It’s not our fault you animals are too stupid to understand a battle strategy.” Orin’s kin again. A brother perhaps? Or a cousin? He was certainly possessed of the same temperament and appalling lack of tact.

“Some of us were apparently too busy _looting_ to notice what was going on, or try to help.” It was Orin this time, and a blatant dig at the trophy Thalia was wearing. She knew it would cause trouble, but she had been too pleased with Ulag’s gift to take it off.

“I’ve seen goblin grandmothers that hit harder than your useless fucking infantry.” This from an orc chief Thalia had not yet met. She was young and proud and sported a colourful mohawk and a facial tattoo. For no reason she could put her finger on, Thalia instantly decided she liked her.

Her words were apparently the final straw for Orin who knocked a lantern off the table and yelled, “Whose stupid idea was it for humans and orcs to try to cooperate anyway? It’s obvious you lot only care about your own. We’d have been better off without you cowardly, tusk-faced sons of elves! You’re no better than Tauren-dung!”

“ENOUGH!”

Ulag’s hand dropped to the head of the knife at his belt, and he bared his teeth in menace. Thalia was lost for words. She'd had no idea of the depths of Orin’s hatred of orcs before this moment, but his insults today made it abundantly clear. Aware that the gargantuan creature next to her was more than capable of pounding the obnoxious human to a pulp without recourse to any weapons, Thalia knew that she needed to defuse the situation quickly. While Orin turned to exchange words with his lookalike, Thalia dropped a hand surreptitiously on Ulag’s arm and gave a tiny shake of her head. “We need him,” she muttered.

If Ulag heard her, he gave no sign, and continued to fix Orin with the full force of his furious glare. Presently, he released the knife handle and drew himself up to his full height. “There are too many voices here. Get out, all of you.”

Several of the assembled spoke out in dissent, but Ulag cut across them all with a further demand for silence. “I will speak for the ten tribes, and Thalia for Dinas Hir and Gresta.”

This time only Orin protested, but Ulag interrupted him. “Until you can stop acting like an unweaned runt, you have no place in this command tent.”

Thalia closed her eyes. She had a feeling she might be paying for that reprimand herself later, judging by the red fury on Orin’s pinched features. The man gave her an enraged glare before following the rest of the commanders outside. Silence reigned for several long moments. Thalia was the first to break it. 

“I apologise for Orin’s behaviour, Ulag. His family has old grudges and old views. He needs a lesson in manners.” The racial slurs the man had thrown were the epitome of ignorance, and had no place in a group of allies.

“What he needs is a pike up his arse,” commented Ulag. “And I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

“So are we still in agreement that we’ll order everyone to cooperate tomorrow?” she asked. While there was evidently some resistance on both sides, if Ulag ordered it, the ten tribes would obey, and she was certain that her own loyal followers from Dinas Hir would do the same. Gresta was still an unknown factor for the moment, but she hoped that if everyone else agreed, they would have no choice but to fall in line.

When he didn’t comment further, and appeared lost in reverie, Thalia asked, “Ulag?”

Ulag grunted. “Just imagining ramming a pike where the sun don’t shine. Or a club. Maybe a morning star…”

Amused despite the inappropriateness of his comment, Thalia feigned shock and slapped him on the arm. “Ulag!” She giggled at his mock-ferocious scowl. “It wouldn’t fit!” The tension in the room had evaporated like so much mist, and Thalia was more sure than ever that it was Orin’s presence that caused that unpleasant sensation. The man just seemed to trail trouble and strife around behind him wherever he went.

“It would with my arm behind it,” said Ulag, moving forward and causing his companion to retreat before his advance. “I’d ram it up shaft first till it got to the ball, then pound it in with a warhammer.” When he had finished, Thalia’s back had hit the broad central strut supporting the tent, and he closed his arms either side of her, pinning her in place. “Hmmmm,” he hummed against her ear, leaning in and inhaling at her neck. “All this talk of ramming things into tight places,” he murmured. He pressed his lower body against her, and Thalia gasped.

“You got turned on by _that_?”

“I am _orc_ ,” replied the other. “Battle excites me. Punishing my enemies excites me.” He shoved a broad, muscular thigh between Thalia’s legs, parting them and pressing it against her sex in one smooth movement. “ _You_ excite me.” He leaned in hard against her, tusks brushing against her ear and cheek. “Especially today. Watching you cut a bloody path through the enemy lines,” a tiny movement of his leg, pushing her thighs further apart. “No quarter.” Warm fingers tilted her chin until her head rested against the post, then moved down to grasp her throat. “No mercy.” Ulag ran his tongue up the exposed tendon in Thalia’s neck, and Thalia’s legs turned to water. “Drowning our enemies in rivers of blood.” Gentle nibbles from his teeth now, catching mouthfuls off skin, licking and releasing. “Payback for daring to enter our lands.” Thalia’s breath deserted her and the hot sensations of his hand, mouth and teeth against her skin were radiating out through every nerve in her body in sparking tingles of electricity. "I've spent half the day thinking about fucking you." The orc brought his face close to hers, one massive hand still holding her throat with just the tiniest hint of pressure, eyes alive with mischief and desire. “That reminds me. You owe me.”

“I thought I’d already paid that debt.” Thalia was looking at him from under lowered lids, an innocent smile curving her lips. She meant nothing of the sort.

“You changed the terms,” he reminded her. 

“Then by all means, allow me to make reparations,” she purred. Thalia pushed against his arms until he released her, and, holding his gaze, she ran a hand over his chest, then sank down before him to the ground.

Thalia knelt between his enormous frame and the main strut supporting the tent, and freed him from his lower garments. His manhood popped out as though celebrating its freedom, and bobbed invitingly before her face. She spent several long moments teasing him with her tongue, placing her mouth over the tip as though to take him inside, then returning to her slow licking of his shaft. Ulag huffed in frustration above her and leaned against the post for support. Grinning up at him, Thalia took his thick length in her hand, enjoying turning the tables on her lover for once. How many times had he teased and frustrated her the night before? Revenge was indeed sweet. In one smooth move, she moved her head forward to take him into her mouth until her lips met her fingers where they gripped him. She paused, controlling her breathing and the spasming of her throat, and looked up again. To her delight, Ulag now had his head pressed against the post, his face betraying the pleasure he felt, and the desperate need for her to take him deeper. Thalia released his cock and slid her hands around to grasp his buttocks, still covered by his suede leggings, and pulled on him. Ulag responded with a groan of need, the like of which she had never heard issue from the orc’s mouth in all the time she had spent with him. It was the utmost expression of mingled desire and desperation, and it was one of the sweetest sounds she had ever heard. As he pushed forward, Thalia realised he wasn’t actually entering any deeper into her mouth, but his actions were causing her head to move back until it touched the post. The woman concentrated on remaining relaxed even as his enormous member forced her lips and jaws apart and slowly invaded her throat. She felt her toes curl and her fingers spasm on his backside as inch after inch slid into her until finally, he had filled her mouth and throat, and the wiry hairs on his lower belly tickled her nose.

Ulag loosed a shaky breath and groaned, loud enough to be heard outside. Thalia smacked her hand against his cheek in warning, which made him jerk in response and shift forward until the flesh of his stomach was pressing hard against her nose, and his balls were bobbing against her chin. With the solidity of the tent strut behind her, and Ulag’s manhood buried to the root in her throat, Thalia was starting to feel a little trapped. She tapped his bottom again and looked up as best she could, to find his eyes were closed, his jaw hanging open, and his expression one of utter helplessness. She could cope with a little more discomfort for the depth of pleasure her Ulag was evidently experiencing at that point in time. She moved one hand to cup and fondle his balls, and kept a tight grip on his buttock with the other, encouraging him to remain in place. Then with all the control she could muster, she began to move her tongue against his shaft, sucking it with her lips, and contracting her throat, all the while keeping his cock in place. Ulag didn’t last long under her intense ministrations. With a strangled growl, he arced his back, hands digging into the tent strut until his nails struck splinters from the hardwood, and loosed his seed into his lover’s throat.

As Ulag relaxed, the pressure on her mouth eased, until eventually he withdrew fully. He helped her to her feet and pressed her back against the central strut, breathless and smiling like a fool.

“That…” he broke off, speechless.

Thalia stood on tiptoes to kiss his bristly cheek. “You’re welcome,” she teased. Indulging herself while he recovered, she ran her hands over the huge slabs of muscle in his chest, admiring his magnificent build, then danced her fingers down to one of his nipple rings and lifted it to see his reaction.

Ulag responded with a half-smile. “I have a present for you.”

“Another?” asked Thalia in surprise. She smiled until he dug the item from a pouch at his belt, at which point her face paled, then flushed. “I … uh … I’m not sure I’m ready to start piercing my … uh,” Thalia trailed off. In the orc’s broad palm lay a small silver ring, similar to those that adorned his chest. 

Ulag laughed aloud. “This is different. I had it made specially.” He gripped it in his other hand and pulled, showing that the ring was sprung, with two rounded silver balls at either end.

Thalia puffed out a sigh of relief and picked up the ring to examine it in more detail. It was just as he described. She slipped a finger between the balled ends and it gripped her digit tightly. Before she could spend too much time wondering how that would feel on a more sensitive area, Ulag took it from her and showed her. The orc freed her breasts from her shirt, and holding her gaze with his, bent down to run his tusk against her nipple, already stiff and erect from her enjoyment of the acts she had performed on him. While his companion shuddered and caught her breath at the sudden stimulation, Ulag opened the ring and let it close slowly against the hard bud. Thalia’s head fell back and a long, slow moan issued from between parted lips. While she was getting used to the sensation, he pulled its partner from his pouch and engaged it with her other nipple. That was unexpected. Thalia lost her footing, despite the support of the strut, and it was only Ulag’s lightning reflexes that stopped her from hitting the ground.

Ulag’s arm supported her entirely now, curled around her back with his hand against her ribs. It felt as solid and sturdy as any rock or tree bole, and she knew with utter certainty that he would not let her fall. Thalia made a few hesitant attempts at speech, to convey what she was feeling, and failed miserably. The sensations in her nipples were causing the dampness already collecting between her legs from tasting Ulag’s manhood to become a full-blown flood, and words seemed wholly inadequate to describe the experience. The orc admired his work for a moment, then used his free hand to tug off her boots and leather leggings, kicking them to one side. Then, as Thalia watched through a haze of arousal, he pushed two fingers into her, groaning softly as he found out just how wet she was for him. Thalia had a sneaking suspicion she was going to last about has long as her lover had. Already intensely excited, the unrelenting pressure on her nipples combined with the filling sensation of two huge orcish digits rammed inside her had left her teetering on the edge. At that moment, Ulag curled his fingers, expertly hitting her sweet spot while thumbing her clit, and brought her to a sudden, blinding climax that left her mewling and writhing in his arms. When she had stopped shuddering with ecstasy, Thalia blinked and looked at him wide-eyed. 

“That’s new.”

“I’ve had practice,” grinned Ulag.

“Just with your fingers?” Thalia asked.

Thalia was starting to understand that the best way to motivate this orc was to challenge him, and her words were already having an effect. Ulag withdrew his fingers and moved his hand to grasp his member, which stood turgid and proud in his fist. 

Thalia blanched. “Already?!”

The orc responded with a wicked, tusk-edged smile that served to illustrate their innate physical differences. “What do you think I am … _human_?”

It is true that a brush with death can make a being feel more alive than ever, and that day had brought several such experiences. Although they both wore the veneer of civilisation - Ulag perhaps less so - those primitive instincts are powerful, and can quickly overcome any learned behaviour or cultural expectations. So it was that at that moment, there was absolutely nothing Thalia - or Ulag for his part - wanted more than to mate with the one that mattered most; to celebrate survival and victory in the most primal, most meaningful way. With her back pressed up against the post again for support, Thalia grasped Ulag’s muscular shoulders as he lifted her bodily from the ground and centred her on his manhood. She watched the intensity of emotion on his face as he let gravity take hold and impale her slowly on his cock. Thalia’s vision went white. When she returned to her senses, her feet were dangling an inch or so off the ground, her back pressed hard against the central tent pole, and Ulag was buried in her to the root. In this position, there was intense pressure on her outer nerves, and from it a new sensation was building, radiating out through her lower abdomen, engendering a desperate need for release. 

Presently, when they had not moved for some time, Thalia realised Ulag’s gaze was fixed on her with furious concentration. In her over-stimulated state, it had barely registered. All she wanted at that moment was for him to move inside her so he could assuage the urgent demands of her body. She tossed her head at him in query.

The orc spoke in a low voice. “I really do, you know.”

“Do what?” huffed Thalia, pushing against his hips to try to make him move.

“Want to kill him in interesting and painful ways.”

Thalia realised he was talking about Orin. “He is making our lives difficult at the moment,” she conceded. 

Ulag’s smile was pure sin. “I’d open up his belly and use his innards to tow him behind my wolf,” he snarled, and as he did so, he started fucking her with a slow, deep rocking motion. 

“Ulag!” Thalia wasn’t sure what to make of this. The physical sensations were second to none, but images of disemboweled men were not doing much for her mental state.

“Ah fine. I’ll just kill him then.”

Thalia felt a wave of guilty amusement as he muttered ‘spoilsport’ under his breath.

Ulag fell silent for a while, which left Thalia free to concentrate on the wonders of their physical union. He was filling her utterly in this position, his hands holding her just off the ground by the buttocks as he pistoned into her, their joining made slick and easy by her own extreme arousal. Thalia had not realised just how much she needed this, or how tense the situation with Gresta and its lord was making her, but every single thrust from her lover’s huge cock was making that worry seem a little less significant as the orc’s relentless motions forced her ever onward towards fulfillment.

Suddenly, she sensed a change in his mood. It came in the form of a violent shake of his black-maned head, a rough hand on her thigh yanking her leg up to his waist, and the heat and pressure of a huge orcish head pressed tight against the side of her face. His breath was feverish, coming in gasps and growls as his hips sped up, snapping against hers in a harsh, staccato rhythm. Thalia grabbed at his neck and leaned on his chest for better balance, although there was no danger of falling with his arms and body pinning her securely in place.

“ _Mine_.” The sound was a harsh, bass growl against her ear, reverberating in her chest. It threw her, but she thought perhaps it was the sort of thing all orcs said in the heat of passion. Seconds passed, and the only sounds were Ulag’s rhythmic exhalations and the slapping of his skin against hers.

“ _Be_ mine.” It was more intense this time and made the hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck stand on end. He raised his head to look at her, not altering the steady pounding of his hips one iota. His rough features were carved in earnest lines. He was serious. This wasn’t just some orcish version of pillow-talk; he meant it.

“Ulag, I can’t… I promised…” Thalia’s words came in strangled gasps.

“We don’t need him or his men,” growled the orc chief.

His cock was starting to feel incredibly good now. It was as though everything inside her was being brought to life by his invading manhood, sending wondrous tingles of pleasure through her entire core. 

“Say the word, and I will tear out his heart and offer it to you as a bonding gift.” 

Thalia’s own heart seemed to stop in her chest. She turned her head to look at Ulag, and for the first time since she had arrived in the orc camp the night before, she really looked. He was orc. A creature like him _wanted_ war and conflict. He _wanted_ to conquer. He was bred for it; he lived for it. Thalia had seen that with her own eyes and deep down she knew it was his destiny. Hers now lay with Orin.

Orin. The name was a rude awakening. Her future lay with him, not the orc chieftain who was even now giving her the ride of her life. Ulag derailed her train of thought then, slipping one hand under her chin while the other pulled on her raised leg, and forced her to meet his gaze. All the while he continued to pound full-force into her tight, wet slit.

“Say the word and I will return to the path of the conqueror. I will summon all the orc tribes to my banner…”

Orin was forgotten. Duty and honour were forgotten. In all the world, there was nothing but his fierce face, his deep, rumbling voice and the incredible feeling of his cock inside her, enhanced tenfold by the gifts he had given her.

“And I will lay this world at your feet.”

Thalia came hard. The look in his eyes, the expression of deep, honest feeling laid bare, the truth and commitment and earnestness that he exuded at that moment were too much to take. Her overwrought nerves gave up and she shrieked aloud, giving voice to an unparallelled release that almost shattered her mind. This time, her orc lover did nothing to try to silence her. Seconds later, Ulag threw his head back and roared out his own pleasure, and Thalia felt him pump her full of his white-hot seed, pounding it out as though in time with the last beats of some tribal tattoo until it spilled over and coated her inner thighs. Thalia’s head fell forward to rest on Ulag’s shoulder, overpowered by her climax and struggling to remember how to breathe. She knew that nothing in all the world would ever feel that good again, and the thought brought tears to her eyes. She felt him shaking and breathing hard against her ear, swallowing and trying to bring himself back under control. 

This was lunacy. This was no roll in the hay with some farm-boy; this potent male was a full-blooded orc with a thirst for war. Thalia realised she had been guilty of glossing over this fact and seeing him only as her childhood friend grown to lover, but in reality he was of another race with different values and drives. She did not doubt for one moment that in his world, killing a love-rival was no more than a simple romantic gesture, whereas in hers, it amounted to at best a crime of passion, and at worst, cold-blooded murder. This was a fantasy, a romantic, childish dream that could never be followed to fruition, for duty and responsibility must be honoured. The Lord of Gresta might be a bully with racist and misogynistic tendencies, but if her influence could turn an orc orphan into a hero, then surely she could win over and remold an overgrown brat?

She had to act now. This had to be the last time. There was no future here and she needed to cut the ties now before it went any further. Hating herself, the fates and whatever gods were making them the victims of their cruel machinations, she pushed against him, signaling her desire for release, and Ulag obliged. He was looking at her expectantly, a hopeful smile lingering unborn at the edges of his lips. A couple of tears escaped her eyes at that, causing him to reach for her in concern. She batted his hand away and stepped back. Thalia reached down, removed his gifts and handed them back to him. Ulag’s mouth formed words but no sounds issued. With tears falling unchecked now, she wrenched the thong from around her neck and handed back the claw pendant.

Ulag’s jaw fell open. “Thalia…”

“I can’t, Ulag. I’ve been telling you that since I came here.” She pulled on her trousers and boots and closed up her shirt with quick, efficient movements. He fell silent, watching her dress with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“My debt is paid?” she asked, tying back her hair and wiping moisture from her cheeks.

The orc chief nodded once, and she returned the gesture before walking towards the doorway.

Ulag’s deep voice rumbled out just before she exited the tent. “I meant what I said, Thalia.” 

She glanced back to see he was still standing facing the post with the rings in his open palm and the claw necklace grasped in the other, looking at her over his shoulder.

Thalia left without another word. That was just what she was afraid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so mean to my characters. XD


	6. Machinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia finds herself outmanoeuvered and seeks out a friend.

Thalia emerged to find that Orin and his contingent had already left, but her own lieutenant, a staunch greybeard named Drinn was still seated amongst the orc chieftains, sharing ale and stories while he waited for her. For a brief moment, all she could think of was running. She wanted to get as far away from this place as possible, to distance herself from the confusing mix of desire and regret she felt in Ulag’s company. And now, a great many faces were looking at her expectantly. Did they know what she and Ulag had done? Had they heard? The pair of them had not managed any semblance of discretion in their last encounter. _Their last_. The world was beginning to swim before her eyes when Ulag’s second-in—command Torug grounded her. He nodded to her and gripped her shoulder lightly in greeting as he headed into the command tent to receive Ulag’s latest orders. Thalia released a slow, steadying breath and permitted herself a hopeful smile. It was true that fast, firm friends could be made in the course of a day when strangers stood shoulder to shoulder against a common enemy. She was glad to now be able to include the stalwart Torug as one of hers. 

The moons were kind to the rutted landscape, torn up by hooves, paws and thousands of marching feet, and lent it a serene air that would vanish again when dawn’s treacherous light revealed the truth. But that was yet many hours away. She briefed Drinn on the ride home, and received his assurance that the warriors of Dinas Hir would follow the new tactics and defend their new orc allies on the morrow. As they fell into companionable silence, Thalia found herself with the headspace to think for the first time in two days. Had it really only been the night before that she and Orin had first walked into the orc camp? The entire world had changed since then. Not only had they spilled their blood fighting Portal-spawned horrors, but she had spent most of her spare hours before and after that in the arms of an orc. Ulag’s impassioned words tonight had disturbed her, that much was certain. For him, everything seemed so simple and so clear, while for the Lady Protector of Dinas Hir, promised in marriage to the lord of Gresta in return for martial assistance, it just made everything ten times more complicated.

Thalia found herself considering Ulag’s offer again with a calm and rational mind. It was a little easier to accomplish when the orc’s manhood wasn’t scrambling her brains. 

_Say the word. Say the word and I’ll remove the last barrier to our love. Say the word and I’ll conquer the world and share it with you._

Thalia had to admit that some part of her yearned to consent, but what would such a life mean for her? Ulag would never want hearth and home, mate and child. It was just not in his nature, but when she stopped to consider it, it was not truly in hers either. While she had been born into comfort and security, from the day she had fled her family’s burning castle, she had trodden the path of the adventurer. Thalia had loved every moment of her early days on the road, the dance of life and death that made every happy moment sweeter, every drop of blood spilled in the name of revenge more meaningful. But in truth, she had thought those days far behind her. Could she embrace them again to live a life with Ulag? Long years had passed since she hunted and killed all those who murdered her family; since she had made her home at Dinas Hir in a position of authority that had been foisted on her when she showed an innate ability to lead. The mantle of power was cloying and lonely, and she did not relish the thought to returning to her city with its high, closed walls and the restrictions it placed on her freedoms. It struck her then that Dinas Hir would no longer be her home, once she fulfilled her part of the bargain she had made with Orin. 

She threw back her head in frustration. 

The alternative of course was to tell the lord of Gresta to go to hell, but the idea of reneging on her deal with Orin did not sit well with Thalia. Ulag was not the only one to have been influenced by the stories she had read aloud as a child, and the values of a person’s honour, of keeping one’s promises, and of holding true to one’s word were ingrained in her as deeply as her need to breathe. If she went back on her word now, what sort of person would that make her? How could she ever expect anyone to trust her again? It became impressed upon her then that Drinn had been speaking for a while, but she had only half heard what he said. It sounded like Orin had summoned a priest. That was well. It was inevitable they would lose more souls in this war, and it was only right they should be given the farewell blessing to speed them to whatever gods they espoused. 

On entering her own tent, Thalia was amazed to find that some considerate soul had scrounged up a metal tub and drawn her a makeshift bath. She made a mental note to promote whoever had thought of it, or at least give them a medal. The warm waters soothed muscles battered by a day’s battle, then strained and wrenched again in her acrobatic tussle with Ulag. Now, bathed and dressed in fresh clothes, she planned to spend her final pre-bed hour running over the many field reports stacked on her trestle table. She had reviewed a full two out of seventeen when Orin barged in and stamped over to stand right in front of her chair with his hands on his hips.

“Lord Orin,” she greeted him pleasantly. Reacting to his little tantrums would only fuel them. 

“Did you complete your … negotiations?” Orin looked like he was chewing a nettle, possibly one covered in piss.

“Yes.”

“And?”

Thalia put down the report she was reading. “We agreed that all allied forces will protect each other against our common enemy. Will Gresta fall in line?”

Orin stared at her, his expression unchanged. “I’ve sent for a priest.”

It was an abrupt change of subject - or possibly not if he was alluding to providing the last rites to the warriors they would doubtless lose in the upcoming battle. “Drinn told me,” she replied.

“You’ve delayed long enough. I’ve given you your two thousand souls and they are already out there dying while I’ve yet to see my payment. I want what I was promised. The priest is on his way now, and he’ll perform the rites that will mark you mine.”

Thalia dropped the paper. “ _What_?” 

As she rose slowly to her feet, Orin moved to loom over her. “I don’t know what’s between you and that Tauren-scat of an orc, and I don’t want to know, but as soon as that priest seals the bond, everything you are, everything you own belongs to me.”

Thalia wracked her brains for a good reason to delay, but she could find none. They needed his men and she’d already assented to his terms. If Gresta was to withdraw now, she didn’t trust Orin not stir up dissent, and he might end up taking the rest of the human contingent along with him. It would be utter folly on Orin’s part of course. The monstrosities coming through the Portal threatened everyone, but she suspected that at this point, the prideful lord would rather die in a small group of humans than fighting alongside an orc.

“Not going to welch I hope? That would not play well with either your people or mine.” And there it was, the thinly-veiled threat she’d been expecting.

Thalia’s voice did not waver. “I am a woman of my word.”

Orin strode to the entrance, but instead of leaving, he pulled aside the canvas to permit a robed figure to enter.

“Get on with it,” he ordered.

Thalia barely registered what happened next. The mysterious figure spoke the bonding words of Orin’s people, and she and Orin both made their marks on a parchment that disappeared inside a priestly robe as soon as they were made. She couldn’t even tell what race the priest was under his voluminous hood. A few moments later, the deed was done. The priest bowed to them both, and with a final, more deferential nod to Orin, he departed. Thalia stood in deafening silence for several long seconds, wondering what in the world had just happened.

“Well,” said Orin, turning to her and unbuckling his belt. “Now that’s settled, I think I’ll start claiming my dues.”

—-

Ulag stirred. Among the noises of the night, the rustling of the leaves and the low grunts of orcs and wolves, unexplained sounds stood out. The drawing back of the canvas door to the command tent was one of them. He cracked open one sleepy eye to see two figures silhouetted there: one, judging by shape and smell was Torug, the other was smaller and female. The two orcs had talked long after Thalia had left, and Ulag was far calmer now than he had been some hours before. His insightful officer had forced him to look beyond the call of his heart - and his loins - and to give some consideration to Thalia’s predicament. While Ulag’s desires had not changed, he did have some regrets about the amount of pressure he had put upon his childhood friend, although he did attribute some of it to the after-effects of his battle-lust. Back in the here and now, Torug held open the doorway and his companion entered. The fabric fell back into place behind her, setting the tent once more into near-darkness. 

Ulag heard her pad quietly across the floor of reeds and dried earth and stop a little way from his bed. Her scent was stronger now, coiling through his senses and stirring quick reactions in his groin. She did not move for some time, nor did she speak, even in a whisper. Was she perhaps rethinking her decision to come here? After the evening’s events, Ulag was more than a little surprised to see her, but he was not about to hold grudges for words thrown in the heat of passion, or in shock or under pressure. Nor was he about to send her away just to assuage his own pride. Whatever had brought her here, Ulag was glad. He pulled back the furs in invitation, exposing the space between his arm and chest where her form would fit so snugly. A moment’s hesitation, then a quick shucking of outer garments, and a cool, mostly naked form glided into his waiting embrace.

Ulag curled his arms towards, him, one hand on her hip, the other in the small of her back, and squeezed gently. She was tense, he noted, her frame stiff as a young tree in his arms. He inclined his head to savour her scent, one of the strongest indicators of arousal and triggers for action in any orc, and paused, assessing. There was no hint of the heady musk she had exuded that first night that had driven him wild, so it was not a need for his flesh that had brought her here tonight. He let go conscious thought for a moment and let the more primitive part of his brain evaluate the evidence of his nose. He smelled warm skin and a hint of summer flowers: she must have bathed in the hours since he last saw her. Below that, on a more primal level he found a scent he knew only too well, the sharp, acrid odour of fear, and - unless he was mistaken - the scent of another male. Ulag frowned. It was perhaps not strong enough for them to have been rutting, but perhaps enough for the male to have tried. Whoever he was, he was the cause of her fear.

He thought back to Torug’s shocked accusation of the previous night. It would never have entered the orc chief’s head to try to force someone; they either wanted you or they didn’t. Your eyes, nose and ears would tell you. He strained his eyes in the dim light, trying to make out her face, but it was buried against his chest, breath hot and fast against his skin. Ulag stroked her hair and shoulder and pulled her closer to him, feeling her relax slowly under his ministrations. He was aware that he was at full attention, being possessed of almost limitless drives, and that his cock was aching from lack of release. It was inevitable, given their proximity, that Thalia would know that too.

“If you want to … I don’t mind.” It was barely above a whisper, and Ulag’s ears twitched as she spoke. It was a soft, mellifluous sound that reminded him of a gently flowing stream, where clear water babbled over smooth, coloured pebbles. It brought to mind that sunlit day that was engraved forever in his memory, and a magical night beneath the stars where nothing had mattered in all the world but the two of them. But what madness was this? Did she think he would demand payment in kind for the protection of his tent? Ulag reconsidered. After the demands he had placed on her for the assistance of his army, he could not blame her for jumping to that conclusion.

“Rest easy,” he reassured her, and pressed his lips against her forehead, mindful of his tusks.

The knots and tension began to ease from her frame, and her arms and legs moved to entwine with his. Her thigh brushed his pulsing erection, and he stifled a groan. Within a few short moments, her breathing slowed and her head rolled a little, and Ulag turned his gaze towards the dim reaches of the tent roof, chewing at his lower lip in frustration. His mind ranged back to the stories she had told him when they were young, where the hero underwent trials or rode through hell itself to save his beloved. This would be his trial, the orc decided: to lie in bed with the woman he loved, while every fiber of his being screamed at him to rut with her, so that she could recover from whatever misadventure had befallen her tonight. He was surprised to find he cast himself in that role, but found it gave him strength to face his challenge. True to orc form, his mind turned from overcoming his trial and succeeding in his impossible quest, to exacting revenge. He smiled to himself in the dark. He would find the male who had dared try to force himself on his love, and he would smear his entrails in a bloody stripe across the ground.

Ulag hoped fervently it was Orin.

The first fingers of dawn’s light woke the orc chief from an uneasy sleep. He found Thalia snoring quietly in his embrace and a smile sneaked unbidden to his broad lips. It pained him to do what he did next, but it was necessary. He shook her awake, calling her name in a low voice. The woman came to drowsily and raised her head. A smile curved her lips on seeing him, and her eyelids became heavy again as she snuggled closer to his chest.

“It’s dawn.” Ulag raised her chin to prevent sleep from claiming her again. He hated doing it.

“Mmmm,” came the sleepy reply.

Ulag vented a breath. “The camp will be astir soon. If you want to leave without anyone seeing you, now’s the time.”

He watched as understanding filtered through and brought her to wakefulness, stealing her smile and bringing back some of the previous night’s tension. She cast about herself for a moment as if not certain where she was. Taking a deep, ragged breath she slipped quickly from the bed and picked up her clothes, avoiding his gaze.

He watched her struggle into her shirt, her movements stiff and hurried. Her urgency was evident. “Are you going to tell me why you came here last night?” he asked.

Thalia cinched her belt and hauled on her boots. She still would not meet his gaze. “I needed a friend.”

The woman would say no more. As soon as she was dressed, she gave an awkward nod in his direction and slipped cautiously outside. Ulag lay back with his hands beneath his head. At thirty-four years of age, he was no stranger to the fairer sex, and while he might be more adept at ripping out hearts than analysing their workings, he knew her response for what it was - a blatant lie. If she had wanted a friend, there were any number of people in her retinue she could have approached. Instead, she had snuck into the tent of an orc chieftain, regardless of the consequences, and stayed almost past the point of no return. No, on this Ulag was certain. Thalia had not needed a friend. She had needed the embrace of a lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That might be it for a little while. I have no more written, just copious plot notes!


	7. An Orc's Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulag relies on the support of his two best friends and plots the death of a certain lord. Which may or may not involve inserting pikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have posted this a few days back but found myself rewriting the overall story arc a few times and trying to figure out the best way to go from here. It's all plotted out again now, but will no doubt change as I write it. :)
> 
> If you're here for the smut, sorry, none in this chapter. :(

A chill morning breeze blew down the canyon, bringing with it the scent of fresh death and the sharp tang of ozone. Ulag breathed it in and let it ignite the warrior flame within him. Thousands had died at their hands yesterday, and the new day brought a new opportunity to deal just as much death and destruction to the Portal-spawned horrors. A savage smile curved his lips. Each skirmish, each new kill, each victory only added to his ever-expanding tribe’s reputation, and the tales from the War of the Portal would be told for years to come, securing immortality for them all. This was a key part of the orc psyche, and one Ulag embraced whole-heartedly. He dropped his hand to his wolf’s neck, sinking his fingers into the thick, wiry fur and giving him an encouraging scratch behind the ear. Bloodmaw huffed and gave a very dog-like whine as he yawned and shook his great head.

“You didn’t sleep much last night either, eh?” The wolf craned its head to look at him over his shoulder and voiced a growl that rumbled through Ulag’s body. He laughed and slapped the hairy flank. “Me neither.” Ulag had no regrets on that score. Although it had taken a long time for sleep to claim him with Thalia’s curvy form pressed tight against his aching body, he would have had it no other way. Besides, a creature of his strength and stamina could lose a night’s sleep here and there with few ill effects on his battle performance. 

He watched the tribes in the canyon below him run their morning drills, nodding in approval as they demonstrated their efficiency and ferocity. It boded well for the day ahead. For his own part, Ulag was already running through his tactics in his mind, envisaging the first charge, anticipating the feel of fresh enemy blood washing against his skin, and the screams of defeat as his opponents fell before his axe. In particular he was looking forward to hunting down Orin. Although Ulag did not know for certain that he had assaulted Thalia, he knew it was the most likely explanation for her fear, and removing the human from the field, in both senses of the word, would make life easier for everyone. While they were officially on the same side, he had a sneaking suspicion the man might accidentally throw himself groin-first on to Ulag’s double-headed axe, and split himself down the middle. Or perhaps he would slip and impale his backside on the business end of the pike Ulag had strapped to Bloodmaw’s side for just such an eventuality. 

His only regret was that he would not have the opportunity to prolong the man’s suffering, but he contented himself with the knowledge that his death would at least be painful. As the scenario unfolded in his mind, he imagined enlightening the lord of Gresta - who, at this point was either sliding arse-first down a pike stuck in the ground, or about to shear into two halves like a split coconut - that Thalia had spent the night in his bed. Orin didn’t need to know they had only cuddled. 

Ulag inhaled deeply and gave voice to a decisive grunt of satisfaction. 

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Torug strode towards his chief with his warhammer resting on one shoulder and a waist-height spiked shield slung over the other. 

The orc chief shook his head and kept his gaze fixed on the assembled thousands below.

“I hope she didn’t keep you up all night,” Torug said, pulling some dried meat from his pouch and feeding it to Blackmaw.

Ulag shot him an annoyed glare, a choice reprimand forming on his tongue. Then he caught the look in his second-in-command’s eye and relented. Left to his own devices and prey to his primal urges, Ulag often pushed the boundaries of what was reasonable, and Torug’s pragmatism was a good foil for the chief’s riskier tendencies. Although Ulag was more level-headed than most of his kind, he did at times let his passions get the better of him, and Torug had often been the ice to Ulag’s fire. Their friendship was long and enduring, and dated back to the months after Ulag’s escape from Castle Morwen, Thalia’s childhood home. The two had fallen in together as clanless adolescents, and had grown side by side, year on year to the positions they now occupied. While Ulag might sometimes resent his old friend’s insights and interventions, Torug was rarely far off the mark.

Torug stalked to the edge of the bluff and stood observing the battle formations while chewing on more of his dried meat. Behind him, Blackmaw whined piteously. “Nice necklace,” he commented over his shoulder.

Ulag’s hand dropped to the claw pendant at his chest. He had donned it when he rose that morning and he planned to give it back to Thalia when Orin’s blood stained the earth and she was freed from her promise.

“You got something to say, Torug?”

His friend carried on chewing and continued to focus his gaze on the canyon and the assembled armies. “Just thought it might be back around someone else’s neck this morning, is all.” 

“The day is young,” replied the chief.

“She didn’t stay, then?”

Ulag shook his head. “Still worried about what others might think.” He hefted his axe and drew himself upright on Blackmaw’s back. “But not for much longer.”

Torug shot a concerned glance in his direction. “What do you mean?”

“Anything can happen in the thick of battle,” he said, repeating his words from a few nights before.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Ulag curled his lip and Blackmaw shifted impatiently beneath him, both orc and wolf spoiling for the fight and eager to be underway. While he didn’t know for certain that Orin had forced himself on Thalia, his nose - and his instincts - were seldom wrong. He resolved to ask Thalia about it later. Tactfully. Sensitively. Once Orin was so much pulped wolf-fodder. The sun had risen over the canyon by now, and the din from the Portal plain was increasing by the moment. There was no further time for delay. It was at that moment that Drinn, Thalia’s lieutenant joined them on the bluff, raising a hand in greeting. His face was pale and strained, and he lost no time in telling the two orcs that Thalia and Orin were nowhere to be found. 

Ulag’s ears flattened back against his skull. He urged Blackmaw forward to the edge of the rise. Scanning the canyon floor, he noted that while the human contingents had arrived, he could not make out their respective commanders. He cursed under his breath. With a jerk of his head, he signaled that they should join the troops on the ground, and the three were soon in amongst the tribe chiefs. The news brought a fresh outbreak of arguments, and Ulag listened with half an ear, confounded by the turn of events. It could not have been more than two hours since he had seen Thalia, and his concern for her whereabouts - and Orin’s - was gnawing at him. But beyond the mouth of the canyon, purple lightning spiked, and the air was alive with the thunderous roar of hundreds of new entities pouring through the Portal. There was no more time for delay. Wherever Orin and Thalia were, they would have to do without them.

“Gresta! Dinas Hir! Who now leads?” Ulag’s voice cut across the din like a peal of thunder. 

Drinn stepped forward along with a man Ulag did not know. The greybeard confirmed that Thalia had left orders in the event of misadventure that they were to stick to the truce and make every effort to defeat the invaders and close the Portal. It was testament to Orin’s short-sightedness and arrogance that his second in command had no such instructions. Ulag rode Blackmaw past the assembled ranks of Grestan soldiers, cutting a dramatic figure on the back of his titanic black wolf. 

“Your lord’s deserted you. But there’s work to be done here to save your own skins as well as ours. Here’s your choice - serve under me or get the fuck out of the way.” The men of Gresta apparently had a little more courage than their absent lord, and rallied quickly to his banner. Ulag wasted no more time and led the charge to the plain. On arriving, the sight that met their eyes brought a wave of dismay: it was as though all their efforts yesterday had been for nought. Fresh monstrosities were pouring through the portal with every passing second, and their numbers were, if anything, even greater than the day before. 

“For Azeroth!”

As he led the charge of the combined forces of ten tribes and two human cities in a wedge formation through the undisciplined ranks of the enemy, Ulag found his mind wandering unbidden to Thalia. Had he scared her off with his intensity? He had all but demanded that she go against her word, and when he recalled the solemnity with which she had recounted the old tales and their lessons on honour and oath-keeping, he knew she believed them and held those values paramount in her moral code. Had he left her with no choice but to go? Was last night a farewell? Or had Orin in a fit of possessive jealousy kidnapped or killed her?

The thought was enough to put him off his stride. A grey-skinned demon with an enormous maw filled with teeth where its eyes should have been bore down on Ulag and swiped at him with an arm that appeared to end in a ten-foot scythe blade. Fast the orc might be, faster still with Blackmaw beneath him, but his distraction with Thalia’s fate nearly cost him dearly. As it was, the scythe-appendage caught him a glancing blow that drew a vicious cut from scalp to cheek, narrowly missing his eye. The blow was enough to knock him to the ground, and he saw the beast sweep Blackmaw aside like a week-old pup. Ulag, stunned, struggled to rise as the grey beast bore down on him like a charging bull. The scythe was already plummeting towards his head, and Ulag had nowhere to go. As he watched in a daze, the scythe seemed to erupt from the creature’s arm in a red geyser and the thing screamed with seven voices at once. A blur of green, a flash of silver, and the thing’s head rolled to the floor at his feet. 

Torug hauled him upright and shook him roughly. “Ulag!”

The orc chief shook his head to try to clear it. It felt like it was full of smoke and nails. A rough slap upside his ear brought him back to his senses and he bared his teeth in warning.

“Ulag! You’re here to lead these orcs and men into war. They’re following you and relying on you to be here.” He wrenched the orc chief forward to within an inch of his fighting tusks, eyes gleaming with a challenge, spitting the words between gritted teeth. “So. Be. Here.”

Although he might resent Torug’s reprimand, he knew on some level it was what he needed to hear. He could do nothing more for Thalia now until their enemies were defeated, and many of those who were even now spilling their blood were doing it at his behest. Ulag drew himself to his full height and lifted his axe, wiping the blood from his forehead. It would bleed freely for a while, head wounds always did, but if he could see, then he could kill, and that was all that mattered now. He gave a brief, deferential nod to Torug, and with the battle-cry of the War Wolves on his lips, he threw himself blade-first into the seething mass of horrors. 

As night fell and darkness made further engagement impossible, the allied armies began their weary march back to camp. Ulag dawdled, searching amongst fallen bodies and discarded weaponry until it was too dark to see. Torug, himself exhausted from two days of non-stop fighting caught his friend by the arm and urged him to stop.

“She’s not here, Ulag. No-one’s seen her all day. We should head back to camp - you need some rest-” Ulag wrenched his arm from Torug’s grasp and went back to his search.

“You’ll be no good to anyone tomorrow if you’re out here all night.” Ulag turned over another couple of bodies. “And you need to get that cut seen to.” The orc kicked at a discarded shield. “And you stink like a dung-heap!”

Had it not been for their long friendship, Ulag’s foul-mouthed response that called Torug’s species, provenance and sexual preferences into question might have caused offence. There was also a colourful and physically improbable suggestion as to what Ulag’s second-in-command could do with himself instead of acting like a nursemaid. Nevertheless, the orc chief submitted reluctantly and with very little grace to Torug’s admonishments and accompanied him back to their camp.

After another night with very little sleep, Ulag dispatched scouts to search for the missing leaders, against Torug’s advice. While he knew they could ill afford to do without a single one of their fighting complement, Ulag reasoned that Thalia and Orin were probably somewhere on the road between the camp and Gresta and could therefore be found quickly. Torug for his part maintained a healthy skepticism, but realised that his chief wasn’t going to give up without a fight, and he had enough to contend with without going toe to toe with Ulag. At dawn’s first light, the Portal opened again and a new slew of horrors poured into the free lands of Azeroth, and the combined armies of humans and orcs met them with the territorial ferocity for which they were famed. 

And so it was for five long weeks.

Ulag sat beneath a leaden sky slowly filling with molten copper as the sun rose. From his vantage point astride Blackmaw on the bluff overlooking the canyon, which over the weeks had become known as the Overlook, Ulag watched the shadow cast by the rising sun recede and reveal their army. Their numbers were greater than they had been a month back. Since the combined strength of ten orc tribes and the fighting contingents of two human cities had been unable to stem the tide, news had spread, and the canyon below now teemed with warriors from many races, and of many different alignments. Though their numbers had swelled, Ulag for his part felt raw and stretched thin. His face was shadowed with stubble, his long hair lank and knotted, and his bulk diminished from endless weeks of fighting while concern for his lover ate away at him every second of every day. Each morning brought a fresh report from his scouts, and each one brought fresh disappointment. There was still no news. The only thing they were able to confirm was that neither Thalia nor Orin had been seen in either Gresta or Dinas Hir.

Another day, another few thousand monstrosities slain, another night alone with no way of knowing his lover’s fate.

The command tent was busier than it had been in the early days, with commanders of every race demanding to voice their opinion, and vying for dominance. Ulag had long since lost interest in the petty power games of the generals and chiefs, and spent most evenings with his face hidden behind the bottom of a tankard. He had found if he drank enough bitter orcish ale it limited the likelihood of dreams and made the evenings pass quicker. Ulag’s night-time visions were always of three limited and equally unsavoury varieties. They either featured Thalia lying dead under the open sky with vultures circling above, or they showed Orin slaking his lust on her in violent, garish detail. Worst of all were those where his lover rutted willingly with the lord of Gresta, mocking him while the two of them laughed. No, Ulag had no more stomach for dreams, and needed the numbing properties of the beer as much as he needed air.

Tonight, several people had impinged on his drinking time, the latest of which was a Draenei mage who had offered to help find Thalia with a locator spell. Although her attempt had failed, she shot Ulag and Torug an appreciative smile when her spellcasting was done. 

“If there’s anything else you need…” she suggested. “Anything at all…”

Torug inclined his head and acknowledged her unspoken offer with a smile of his own. When she had sashayed away, he stared at his companion until he could no longer reasonably ignore him, and Ulag turned his head to regard him with a questioning scowl.

“Not like you to turn down an opportunity like that,” Torug observed. On the far side of the tent, the Draenei mage shot him a wink and he returned it with a cheeky grin. Ulag ignored them both. Taking a deep breath, Torug spoke the words that had been festering inside him for a few weeks. They needed to be said.

“There might come a time when you have to let go, Ulag. You’re not living. You’re going through the motions in battle. You’re drowning yourself in your cups every night. There are many here who would keep you company, warm your bed, give you the companionship you crave-”

“Fuck off, Torug.”

“She would have found her way back to you by now,” insisted his friend.

“Not if she’s chained in some dungeon.”

“Or happily asleep in her husband’s bed-” Torug’s comment nearly earned him a face full of fist, but, wise to Ulag’s moods, he moved just in time and said, “Have you considered that she might have left of her own accord?”

It wasn’t the first time Ulag had been forced to consider this, and it would not be the last. Had their last few hours together been a farewell? 

Torug took a long draught of his own beer and emboldened, added, “That Draenei. She would have bedded you, you know.”

Ulag glowered at him.

“Then again, so would that blood elf mage.”

“He wasn’t my type.”

“Might do you some good to rut, to get rid of some of that tension. I’m sure Thalia would understand-”

Ulag’s reaction caught Torug by surprise. The orc chief stood upright and overturned the table in front of them, sending papers, tankards and weapons scattering in all directions. Without another glance at his long-time friend, Ulag stalked from the tent, grabbing a barrel of ale and hefting it to his shoulder on his way out. When he had emptied most of its contents and he lay in a stupor in a clearing in the woods, he found his mind ranging back again to the night that Thalia had been his under the stars. He remembered the gleam of moonlight on her bare skin, the warm touch of her lips on his flesh as she bade him goodnight, the comfort of having her slender form tangled with his. That night, they had known true peace in each other’s arms and in that knowledge, he felt an ache so strong he thought his chest had been pierced with a spear.

Torug might have his best interests at heart in trying to help him adjust and move on, or even just work out some of his frustrations, but as far as Ulag was concerned, his old friend could go fuck himself. He had no intention of bedding anyone until he was reunited with his Thalia, and he could demonstrate to her in a physical manner the full extent of his devotion.

Gods help that woman when he found her.

From his vantage point on the Overlook the next morning, Ulag surveyed the morning formations with a sour stomach and bleary eyes. The long weeks of fighting, drinking and stress were finally taking their toll, and a full barrel of Croxus’ Black Death last night hadn’t helped matters. He swayed a little on Blackmaw’s back, making his mount uneasy and skittish. He fully expected a bollocking of royal proportions when Torug showed his face, assuming of course he got it out from between that Draenei’s thighs in time for the first charge. It was about then that Ulag decided he didn’t want another lecture from his second in command. Not today. Raising his axe in the signal for attack, he gave voice to the battle-cry of the War Wolves and urged Blackmaw forward with a clench of his knees. The faithful wolf carried his orc rider forward into the seething ranks of horrors, their numbers undiminished even after all the efforts of the allied tribes, and the armies of Azeroth surged after them. Ulag soon launched himself axe-first from Blackmaw’s back, sweeping aside one after another of the demonic horde as through they were so many straw dolls. His reckless, uncoordinated attacks left him exposed to a beast that towered twenty feet tall, spewing liquid fire from its three lizard-like heads. Blackmaw, sensing the danger and loyal to a fault, leaped forward to intercede and save his orc friend’s life. Ulag yelled at him to break off his attack, but the wolf could not understand.

Death came for them both in a wave of liquid flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so mean! XD


	8. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia returns to the Portal - but will she be too late?

Thalia ducked into her tent and ran straight for her arming rack. She flung off her road-soiled clothing, wincing as the action brought a wave of pain and nausea, and shouldered her way into her armour as fast as her restricted movements would allow. Every second she delayed kept her from helping friends and allies, many of whom were here at her request, and every second kept her from reassuring herself that her a certain impulsive orc still drew breath. She buckled on her sword belt as she ran back out of her tent and clambered up onto her exhausted mount, simultaneously wracked with guilt for the poor creature’s wellbeing and furious at it for not being more resilient. With a cry of encouragement, she kicked its sweat-soaked flank and cantered down through the canyon to where the din of battle rang out across the midday air. The sun beat down from above, and Thalia closed her mouth as her horse pelted through the swarms of flies that had congregated about the battle-carrion.

The plain opened up before her in a vista that came straight from Hell. There must surely be tens of thousands fighting now, and every race on Azeroth appeared to be represented. Their foes were just as she remembered in her dreams over the preceding weeks: things born of nightmares made flesh, bent on rending every living thing in their world limb from limb. Battle poets often painted fanciful pictures of rivers of blood, but today, those words were true. The earth ran red with it, and the air itself was filled with a blood-haze. Thalia’s face locked in a rictus of horror. How could any of her friends have faced these odds for weeks on end and still live? It was at that moment that a familiar voice hailed her, and she turned to see Torug, his arm raised in greeting not ten feet away. His face betrayed a variety of emotions on seeing her, shock being chief among them.

She urged her flagging mount over to where he was extracting his war-hammer from the corpse of something that looked like it had too many limbs and too few heads, although in fairness the latter was probably down to Torug. Thalia reined in her horse and asked how he was faring.

He nodded grimly, wiping the shaft of his hammer clean of gore. “Surviving.”

“And…” she hardly dared ask. “Ulag?” She watched Torug’s face closely for his reaction. It would tell her all she needed to know before he had spoken. She swallowed, dreading his reply.

Torug cast a wary glance at the battle and back again, as though searching for the right response. “He needs to see you.”

Thalia digested that. He was at least still alive, but she caught the nuance in Torug’s tone. “Where…?”

Torug gave a humourless laugh. “Where do you think?” He raised his bloody hammer and turned to face a charging enemy. “Stubborn son of an elf - where the battle is thickest!”

With final a nod to the orc, Thalia charged through the churning mass of violence until her horse reared in fear, and she slid from its back and slapped its rump to send it off in search of respite. Thalia cut her way through the disorganised ranks of the enemy until she reached the centre of commotion, and there atop a small rocky rise stood Ulag. The orc chief was, as ever, in the thick of it, causing havoc, but she was appalled at the change in her lover. The primal deity who had invaded her dreams every night for the last month was gone, and in his place was a lean, pale, disheveled brute. His killing blows, though still devastating, seemed diminished, and his left forearm was blackened as though by fire. Torug’s meaning became clear, and she felt her closer to him than ever: she had suffered just as much being apart from him.

The orc chief was beset on all sides and the enemy was coming thick and fast. Thalia flicked her twin blades out in readiness and began to cut her way up the rise, approaching the embattled chief from his left flank. This close, she could hear the grunts of effort as he separated his foes from their vital organs, and it gave her some relief to know that each foe she took down meant one less for him to deal with. It was inevitable that he would notice the strain had been taken from his left, and when he did, he turned, panting, to assess the situation and see whom he had to thank. Thalia watched recognition wash over his blood-stained features. The orc’s breathing slowed, and he blinked a few times as though to dispel a mirage. He frowned and shook his head, bemusement now taking the fore. “Thalia?”

The moment’s respite was over. The horde surged forward. She turned, hair flying, eyes alive with battle-fever. “Fight, you fool!”

When tales were told of the War of the Portal in later years, it was at this moment that the storytellers maintain the tide turned: when Ulag, Chief of Ten Tribes was reunited with his lover, and she gave him the will to win. This of course lent the story a more dramatic romantic narrative, but in truth it was a nameless blue-robed necromancer who ended the incursion into Azeroth. When he joined the group of magic-users who had expended their magicks every day attacking the Portal with a thousand different spells, his presence appeared to amplify their combined energies, and as Ulag and Thalia watched, they closed the portal forever. A violet shockwave exploded from the collapsing Portal and floored everyone on the plain, and when Ulag staggered upright, their enemies were so much dust. He turned and extended a hand to Thalia and, with the combined allied armies as witness, he crushed her against him in an embrace Thalia hoped would never end.

A few moments later, Ulag’s wolf appeared, padding through the smoke, the left half of his face singed, but otherwise unharmed. Ulag cried out in welcome and vaulted to his back. Thalia grinned up at the sight of him, fierce and proud astride his mount, and accepted the hand he lowered to pull her up onto Blackmaw’s back. Ulag wrapped one brawny arm around her waist, and raised his axe with the other. The air for the first time in weeks was alive with the songs of many races: victory songs, bawdy songs, songs celebrating life and beer and love and death. Behind her, Ulag bellowed out greetings, celebrations, friendly insults, and occasionally raised his voice in song with the others, an experience that sent Thalia into a state of wonder. The sounds vibrated through her body, the orc’s voice deep and even reasonably tuneful. Thalia laced her fingers with his and breathed the free air once more.

They were quickly underway - not a single being wanted to spend any more time on the plain where so many had paid for Azeroth’s freedom with their dearest blood. As they rode, gently rocked by Blackmaw’s gait, Thalia was intensely aware of the solid heat of the orc at her back, and his very proximity after long weeks deprived of his company was enough to start a fire in her loins.

At a lull in the singing and banter, Ulag squeezed her fingers and murmured in her ear. “You missed all the fun.”

Thalia interpreted that as an understatement. She knew what he would ask next and even now, after days on the road with nothing to do but think, she had no better idea what to tell him.

“What happened?”

Thalia struggled with her words for a while, then replied, “Orin happened.” Behind her, Ulag tensed and gripped his axe with renewed force.

“Where is he?” His voice was the sound of a glacier dragging over rock. Implacable. Relentless.

His question was met with silence. The clamour around them faded into the background, until there was nothing but the two of them and the unanswered question. Thalia knew she would have to give some kind of response.

“Far away.”

When her silence had lasted long enough to make it clear she was not going to volunteer more information, Ulag asked, “Did he … hurt you?”

Thalia shook her head. Although she resented keeping the truth from him, it served a greater purpose. “I’m fine.” After a few moments of expectant silence, Thalia added, “The only thing that hurt me was being away from you.” The orc’s arm tightened on her waist and she could feel the evidence of his excitement against her lower back. Meanwhile, her own back was on fire. The adrenaline rush of the battle had worn off, and now the new wounds were stinging and burning as they had throughout her journey back. But her lover’s presence was a powerful balm for all her ills, physical and mental, and she leaned back against his bare chest, luxuriating in the comfort his nearness provided.

On reuniting with Drinn back at the allied camp, Thalia quizzed him about their army’s losses and how they had acquitted themselves at the Portal. Though saddened by the death of her honourable and loyal soldiers, she raised a cup to celebrate their hard-won victory, and to toast the fallen. Some time later, she realised that while most of the commanders had gathered outside the command tent, Ulag was nowhere to be seen. When Torug found his place by the fire, she asked him about Ulag’s whereabouts and the orc chuckled.

“I told him to go dunk himself in a horse trough.” Thalia was not the only one to laugh aloud at that.

Torug sobered and caught her eye. “It’s good that you’re back. For all our sakes.” Thalia took that to mean the orc chief had dealt with her absence poorly, and she allowed herself a small measure of smugness, tinged with guilt.

When Ulag reappeared some time later, he had made at least some effort to make himself presentable, scraping weeks of beard growth from his cheeks and the blood and slime of battle from his hide. He took his place on the large log outside the command tent and took a proffered tankard in one hand while pulling Thalia down with the other to perch on his knee. Initially, Thalia resisted and tried to return to her own seat, but Ulag was evidently not giving up without a fight, so rather than enter into a very public struggle she couldn’t possibly win, she reluctantly assented. Besides, many others around the fire had paired up, including Torug and a Draenei mage she didn’t recognise. Someone thrust a horn of ale into one of her hands and a hunk of bread filled with meat into the other, and at that point, Thalia gave up.

Over the next few hours, conversation waxed and waned amongst the assembled commanders, a few good-natured fights broke out and were quickly reconciled, and ale flowed in obscene quantities. At a break in their respective conversations, Thalia finally turned her full attention to the behemoth at her back. Noting her attention, he slipped his hand, which was supporting her outer thigh, around and beneath her leg to cup her buttock. Thalia caught her breath as his searching fingers inched further around, passing the curve of her inner thigh and pulling gently. It caused an instant hollow ache in her core, and damned if the orc didn’t know it.

He leaned in, inhaling at the back of her neck. “You smell good.” His fingers walked a little further across the underside of her thigh, causing a flood of warmth and pleasure. “Now you smell even better.” His comment ended in a low groan. Thalia tried to control her breathing. Aware her face was already flushed from the orcish beer and his attentions, she didn’t want those assembled to know what the orc chief was doing to her, but the simple knowledge that he was in as much need as her tripled her excitement until it felt as though there was lightning in her veins. She half-turned to look at him, and the world dimmed until she could perceive nothing but the immense, muscular green form that so captivated her; until she could feel nothing but the heat of his body where his leg touched hers, and the waves of warmth emanating from his torso. Holding her gaze, Ulag removed the claw pendant from his own neck and slipped it around hers. 

“This belongs to you,” he asserted. His hand lingered at her chest and Thalia’s eyes were drawn to his curled fingers, so much bigger than hers. She was mesmerised by the sheer size of them, and her thoughts flitted to what he was able to do with them; what he _had_ done with them; what she _wanted_ him to do with them. A glance at his face and she knew his thoughts were on the same track. These were powerful, primal urges, and Thalia and Ulag could no more overcome them than they could stop the sun rise. 

The orc stood without warning and ushered her into the command tent, to a chorus of rowdy approbation from the watching crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! Smut time! *goes off to scribble*


	9. A Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulag pumps Thalia for information.
> 
> 17/06/20: Made some minor updates to the wording. Nothing changes, but some bits were bugging me. :)

How many times had Ulag run through this fantasy in his mind in the last few weeks? In each of them, he hurried his lover into his tent, tore off her clothes and sheathed himself in her without preamble, ridding himself of both his frustration and his troubled mind in one simple act. Now she was here, and real, and alive, he was surprised to find that wasn’t what he wanted. Standing before his rough wooden bed, Ulag divested them both of their armour with swift, efficient moves. He tugged her shirt off over her head, running his hands over her warm skin, and he leaned down to drop kisses against her shoulders, thrilled by her instant reactions. She was grabbing at him for support now, clearly adoring his every attentive touch; eyes fluttering, breath catching, hands squeezing. He lowered her to the furs, sliding an arm beneath her, and caught his breath in shock. Under his questing fingers, the skin was raised into raw ridges. Thalia caught his face in her hand and shook her head. She did not want to discuss that now. Ulag clenched his jaw but nodded slowly in assent. It amounted to another black mark against Orin’s name, and one day soon, Ulag would hold him to account. 

He kicked off his pants and slowly slid Thalia’s down her legs, baring her gradually to his hungering gaze. When she was utterly naked beneath him he paused, drinking in the sight he had craved night after empty night. By now, his manhood was standing proud and aching to be buried in her. He had gone weeks without release and for a creature of his drives, that was tantamount to a lifetime. He slid his thumbs down to hook at the tops of her inner thighs and pull her open. The orc let his eyes linger on her, watching her part for him, a tiny noise of desire escaping her even at this early stage. He pressed his manhood against her, finding her slick and yielding, and grasping his turgid length in one hand, he ran it against her slit, testing her, teasing her until she grabbed his buttocks and pulled him forward.

The descent was utter bliss. She squeezed and welcomed him with her wet heat, and Ulag watched her take a single long, impossibly slow breath as he filled her to the brim. He held his position, hilted in her for long, quiet moments, neither of them moving nor seemingly drawing breath. Filled with a sudden curiosity, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, careful to keep his tusks from harming her. While their lips might not interlock the way humans’ did, they fit together perfectly in other ways. It had the unexpected but far from unwelcome effect of sending Thalia straight into her first climax. Ulag allowed himself a self-satisfied grin.

“So soon?” 

When Thalia had marshaled herself, she breathed, “You haven’t done that since we left my father’s castle,” by way of explanation.

“Remind me to do it again.”

Thalia stretched luxuriously beneath him and brought her arms up to wrap around his bull neck with a lazy smile. “Oh I will. I never want to stop doing this.”

“Lucky for you,” came the low growl in response.

Thalia chuckled and turned his great shaggy head towards her, her mirth fading as she ran her finger over his lip where it curved around his tusk. “I want this,” she said at length, raising her heavy-lidded eyes to look at him. 

Ulag tilted his head. “So do I.”

“I mean I want this… For good.” The orc’s eyes widened as understanding dawned, then his expression hardened. He wanted her words to be true, but given her reaction when he had proposed just such a thing not five weeks ago, he was wary. She had given him the social equivalent of a slap in the face that day, and despite all that had happened, it still stung.

Thalia interrupted his train of thought with more soft words. “I want to stay with you - whatever that means for me.”

“You know the path I walk,” he warned. 

“And I will walk it with you,” she vowed.

Ulag considered this new turn of events as carefully as he could, given the maddening sensation in his loins and the bias it was no doubt causing in his judgment. Thalia’s month-long disappearance as yet had no explanation, and since her return, she had volunteered no information about what had befallen her. It was only natural that he should therefore still be prey to the worst his imagination had to offer, where Orin had mistreated her, or the two had rutted and mocked him. 

“And your promise to Orin?” he demanded.

She averted her gaze. “Life’s too short.”

Her response should have made him deliriously happy, but something about her attitude did not ring true. Was he to believe she would so easily go back on her word?

The woman placed her palm against the striated muscles in his chest, feeling for his heartbeat with her fingers. “I want this. I want to be here.” She raised her head so that her face was closer to his. “I want _you_.”

At that point, Ulag decided that his misgivings were pretty inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and his need to fuck the curvaceous creature that lay a willing prisoner beneath him was part of a sexual imperative he could not fight. Nevertheless, his mind dwelt on the need to know what had happened to her in Orin’s company.

Thalia derailed his train of thought then as she reached up and traced her fingers around the edge of his face, dancing lightly around the new scar that ran from brow to cheek. “What happened?”

Ulag puffed out an embarrassed breath. “First day alone at the Portal.” 

Thalia’s face filled with concern, but her response came out as a reprimand. “You should be more careful, Ulag Chief of Ten Tribes. You’re too reckless!”

Ulag laughed at her teasing, then sobered. “My mind was … elsewhere that day.”

“And what about this?” she asked, avoiding his loaded response and sliding her hands down his arm, stopping just above where the skin was blackened. Ulag grinned. “A fire-belching lizard with three heads.”

His companion giggled at his description and he joined her, but sobered more quickly, asking, “And what about these”? His rough fingers moved beneath her, scraping against the recent wounds. Thalia’s face paled, then became calculating. Without warning, she tilted her hips to the side, grabbed hold of his shoulder, and put her full weight into pivoting them both. 

Ulag permitted her two more attempts, examined then chewed at a hangnail, then asked, “What are you trying to do?”

Her scowl was comical, but her next words swayed him. “Let me ride you.”

Fully aware that her tactics were a distraction, Ulag allowed himself to be rolled onto his back, assisting his lover in settling atop him with only a moment’s separation. It might not bring him the answer he wanted, but he still felt he was getting the better end of the deal. 

She truly was beautiful, Ulag thought. His hands traced a parallel set of paths up her parted thighs, over the smooth curve of her hips and into the hollows at her waist, settling his hands there and marveling at the way they could close around her midriff. His fingers continued their exploration, sliding up to cup her breasts, thumbing over the dark tips of her hardened nipples, and up onto her strong shoulders. He hooked his fingers around the back of her neck, burying his digits in soft black hair, and he and met her sultry gaze with a lustful one of his own. The claw necklace bobbed between her full breasts, and at that moment she looked like a tribal goddess, alive with sensuality and desire, and in dire need of riding his cock.

As though she could sense his thoughts, Thalia began to lower herself down onto him, inch by tantalising inch, head falling back as the sensations intensified and she enveloped him in her constricting depths. Ulag caught her hips mid-descent and held them there. Strong she might be for a human woman, but unless he moved his arms, she would never take his length inside her. She came alive again above him, exhaling sharp, frustrated breaths, and pushing at his hands. When he did not relent, she let him take her full weight, hoping that would encourage him to let her please him. Ulag held firm. When she began to struggle against him, need flushing her cheeks, he knew what she wanted: she wanted to engulf him, to seat herself on his hips, to have him stimulate her from the inside and out, and bring him to his own end. But there was something so potent in driving her to frenzy, in frustrating her to the point of fury, then fucking her hard and watching that frustration get pounded away, that he could not allow it yet, no matter how much they both needed it. He raised his upper body and, still holding her half-way impaled on his rod, he set about tonguing her breasts again, eliciting a cry that sat half way between need and anger. Wrapping his brawny forearm around her waist to prevent unwanted movement, he slid a thumb into her warm mouth, pressing down on her tongue, and he imagined sheathing himself in her throat. The thought of it nearly finished him, but he promised himself he would make that vision a reality before the night was out. 

Despite the undeniable pleasure of their joining, Ulag’s mind was still uneasy. She was keeping something from him, the orc was certain. He did not like being denied, and so he reasoned perhaps the best way to get her to divulge that information was to keep something from her. 

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded, holding her above him where she was unable to sink down and gain the stimulation she craved. She was soaking wet, he noted, her fluids running in clear rivulets down her inner thighs. Good. She would take his swollen member easily then when he finally plunged it into her to the hilt. 

“No,” she groaned. She placed her hands over his, squeezing, encouraging. “Just fuck me, Ulag, please!”

Ulag growled and sat up, taking most of one breast into his huge mouth and flicking the nipple with a hot, wide tongue. “Tell me,” he commanded. She continued to resist. Ulag knew the chances were high that Orin had inflicted the damage, or was at least its instigator. He knew it was also likely the wounds were the result of punishment or retribution, and that his own name probably entered into the equation somewhere. The man was meat. He just didn’t know it yet. All Ulag had to do was find out where the lord of Gresta was hiding, but Thalia - so far at least - wasn’t talking. Ulag loosed a frustrated growl. Orin aside, the half-stimulation was starting to madden him. Much as he might savour the sight of Thalia’s slender form bouncing naked on his manhood and letting her do all the work for a while, it just wasn’t in him to be ridden. What he wouldn’t do for release right now; what he wouldn’t do to find a way to unleash the pent-up sexual energies of five long weeks; what he wouldn’t do to get her to divulge the information he needed. It was then the combination of sexual denial and interrogation came together in a beautiful, symbiotic idea and so before Thalia’s clenching womanhood drove him to orgasm, he flipped them again.

She hit the furs with a little ‘oof’ of surprise, and Ulag did not hesitate in penetrating her yielding flesh, pushing forward and stopping again with his shaft half rooted in her. He drew his arm up from where it cupped her lower back to grasp her hair and tilt her head back to look at him. Her eyes were fluttering and rolling, and her hands grabbing and pulling at him, urging him to complete his plunge.

“Tell me where he is, Thalia.”

The woman bucked and undulated beneath him, straining to complete their union. “You really want to talk about him _now_?” The words came out in a breathless, confused whisper.

“Tell me and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“No…” Her words were lost in a groan of need. 

Ulag sensed her resolve weakening. He moved his other hand to engage with her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, thumbing her nipple, watching her convulse beneath his attentions. Every fibre in his body was urging him to do what she wanted, but his need to find the creature that so irked him was stronger, and besides, he was deriving an almost perverse pleasure from interrogating his lover under sexual duress.

“Tell me and I promise I’ll make you come.”

Thalia’s response was a jumble of profanities, some directed against him, some natural responses to the sensations he was causing in her.

He lowered his body until his face was a scant inch above hers, and he spoke from between gritted teeth. “Tell me and I swear I will fuck you until you scream for mercy.” He was rolling the hardened bud of her nipple between thumb and forefinger now, and his manhood was alive with tingles of pleasure that were demanding deeper stimulation.

Thalia at this point was beyond reason. The words started to come out in strangled gasps, and Ulag pieced them together as he held her just at the boundaries of pleasure with deft movements of fingers and cock. A fortress, a hundred or so miles to the south. A tower with a watermill attached. An old family retreat. A warning about some priest or other. And a name. _White Copse_. It was enough.

He took one last look at his lover, savouring the need - the desperation - in her, and knowing that his own desires were just as strong. He slid his thumb around from her hair and pressed it against her lips again. She parted them and ran a warm, wet tongue over the end. Holding her gaze with his, Ulag let his weight take him down hips-first into her, and with every inch that she took, he pushed his sizeable thumb into her mouth at the same rate. The sounds Thalia made as he did so were almost enough to end him. Pushed to breaking point by the very acts of denial he had performed on his lover, Ulag’s patience abruptly ran out. With an animalistic growl, the orc shifted back onto his knees, hauling Thalia’s hips up to smack against his. He was aware, dimly of her speaking to him, but he could not make out the words or their meaning, nor at that particular point in time, did he much care. He began to take her roughly, raising his pelvis off his knees to slam against her, hilting himself in her with every thrust of his hips and every yank of his arms. Where his engorged manhood entered her at an angle, he swore he could see it rising against the smooth skin of her belly, sunken into her almost to her navel.

Outside the sonorous beating of orcish drums broke the still night air, a primitive tattoo that matched the pounding of Ulag’s heart. His body moved to match the rhythm, and as the drummers outside increased the tempo, so the orc’s lovemaking reached a crescendo. Ulag crossed his arms beneath Thalia’s back so that they gripped opposite shoulders, wedging her against him and preventing her from moving away from his thrusts. His heart was thundering in time with the wild pounding of the drums and he pistoned into her, lost to his lust, aware that Thalia was releasing one long, ululating cry of mindless ecstasy beneath him, her breath forced from her body with every violent thrust of his hips. He felt her climax coming before his own. Her body bucked, bending back as best it could in his constrictive arm-lock and her inner walls clenched at him, sending irrepressible waves of pleasure through his manhood and into his core. Weeks of holding back and waiting came to an end. Ulag roared aloud, pumping her captive body full of thick, hot seed as wave after wave of cum gouted from his pulsing cock. 

The orc chief collapsed, only to raise himself onto his elbows almost immediately at a strangled cry of protest from his lover. He withdrew slowly, drenching her thighs and the furs with his issue, which continued to pour in hot, white jets until at last the flow was exhausted.

Ulag held himself up on his arms for a few moments longer, panting aloud, mastering his breathing, and savouring the relief that his Thalia had brought him. With a sated sigh, he fell back onto the bed beside her, catching her small fingers with his while she too recovered her breath. He gathered her unresisting form to him, their arms and legs entwining in natural resting positions, and he let the peace of her proximity lull him for a while. The world was not set to rights yet, and Ulag, chief of Ten Tribes had many trials yet ahead of him, but for tonight he had what he wanted: his long-awaited release, the location of the man he needed to kill, and Thalia, wanton and willing in his arms - and pledged to him. All in all, Ulag counted that as a good night’s work.


	10. Devotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia and Ulag make some admissions and commitments. And have fun doing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, the story’s out of my hands now. I claim no responsibility for the (mis)behaviour of these characters today - they made me write this! 
> 
> Hopefully, whether you’re here for smut, romance or angst, there’s something for everyone. If you’re here for the battle scenes… er … you’re shit out of luck (and probably reading the wrong fic!). :)

The warm grasp of Ulag’s fingers on hers, stroking, grasping, interweaving, brought Thalia back to the moment. She was aware that her lover had turned on his side and propped himself on an elbow in what was ostensibly a precursor to communication, but for the moment, she was still dealing with the after-effects of a brain-busting orgasm, and so the orc chief would have to wait.

“Are you alright?” The rich, deep tones rumbled through her. Thalia was half tempted to keep silent just to hear him speak again, but knowing the fool of an orc was probably worried he had hurt her, she took pity on him. She intended to indicate to him that she was fine, it was just that no-one had ever had such a profound effect on her, that with no other lover had she ever felt so alive, so complete, and no other lover, no matter how long she lived could ever hope to compare to what Ulag, Chief of Ten Tribes had aroused in her that night. 

What actually emerged from her lips was “Mmmffnnnyyyhh.” 

Ulag raised a brow. His expression morphed from amused to bemused as Thalia started to giggle, only to be overcome with mirth and to start laughing out loud. It was almost a greater release than the monster orgasm Ulag had just given her. 

Almost. 

Ever since Thalia had abandoned the path of the adventurer and settled down to lead in Dinas Hir, her life had been one long tangle of stresses and responsibilities. More recently, her truck with Orin had left her feeling out of control and frustrated, and more recently still, the fraught days of racing north, hunted by enemies, not knowing if Ulag still lived, had all taken their toll. And now she had tried to maintain that composure, after all that had happened, and to explain to this creature who was at once her lover and her chief ally that she thought highly of his prowess, only to find herself incapable of speech as a result of that very thing. It was, as the saying goes, the final straw. The release was overdue and much needed, and Thalia laughed until her sides shook.

Presently she subsided a little, aware her companion must think her a little deranged. She turned to him to see his reaction only to find the orc was rising up, looming over her in mock-threat.

“What's so funny?” he demanded. Thalia was in no condition to reply.

Ulag cocked his head and pointed his finger in warning. “You’d better not be laughing at my sex face!” 

Any composure Thalia might have regained by that point was lost again, and all hope of resuming normal discourse quickly disappeared as the orc made matters worse by administering a tickling of epic proportions. Some time later, when Thalia had managed to convince Ulag to show mercy for a few moments, she hooked her hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face close to hers. It was impressed upon her then that he was paler and somehow lesser than when last they had met. She had thought as much on the battlefield, but here, alone with her and satisfied, his face had regained some of its colour, and she had little doubt now that the Portal was closed and they were reunited, he would soon be back to his old self. Truth be told, since the battle and Ulag’s diversionary tactics, she hadn’t had time to think, but now that opportunity was available, Thalia felt certain incontrovertible truths. She was _here_. This was _real_. Despite the odds and her fears that this life was lost to her, she had made it out of Orin’s captivity alive, she had not been caught on the ride back, she had fought to Ulag’s side and satisfied the need that had dwelt unsated in her for many long weeks. She had reclaimed him, and she would be damned if she would let anything change that now.

" _Mine_." It was an echo of Ulag’s own words the last time they had been intimate, and Thalia was aware of the awkward connotations, but the orc’s resulting smile was like sustenance to a starving castaway. He was not going to hold it against her. Thalia laid her hand on one pectoral slab, soothed by the steady rhythm. There was such substance in him; such heart, and it was blisteringly clear to her with every second she spent in his company how much of a contrast he posed to Orin. Though she lay beneath a powerful creature bred for destruction, in a position of utter vulnerability, she felt not the slightest trace of fear. Her thoughts ranged again to what Orin had done the night she had sought shelter in her orc friend’s arms. Its one saving grace was that it had been over fast. In her adventuring days, the rough group of misfits with whom she had fallen in, thieved and killed would have called him a ‘three stroke wonder’. Thalia had done her best to blot the event from her memory, and her more recent ordeal at Orin’s hands had supplanted it to some extent in her psyche, being of a far more painful, but less sexual nature. 

“What's wrong?”

Thalia realised she had dwelt too long in sombre thoughts, and quickly dissembled. The last thing Ulag needed was more incentive to hunt down her ass of a husband. It was going to be hard enough to keep him off the warpath as it was. 

“I wish I had a bath.” That much at least was true. After several hot, dusty days on the road, a full-blown battle, and then a fun but exhausting wrestling match with an orc, there was little higher on her list of priorities. Except maybe more wrestling.

“I can recommend the horse trough,” said Ulag.

He got a mock-scowl in return, at which he rose from the bed and stuck his head outside the tent doorway. Thalia watched his taut buttocks tense and stretch as he talked animatedly, and she lay back with her hands behind her head, content for the moment to just take in the view. She let her eyes wander over his form, from the broad yoke of his shoulders, strewn with fronds of jet black hair, down over the impressively-defined shoulderblades, across every crease and bulge that evinced his god-like strength, only to dwell again on the muscular outlines of his butt. Thalia nodded to herself. She had made the right choice, hard as their future path might be.

It had been a turbulent month. After being reunited with her childhood friend and finding they were still as attracted to each other as they had been that unforgettable summer’s day, she had come to think of him as much more than a lover in only a few short nights together. In the intervening weeks, victim to Orin’s whims, there had been times when she feared she would never see her orc chieftain again, and that had hurt more than any physical punishment the Lord of Gresta could have inflicted. There was a part of her that still insisted she had made an oath, sealed a pact that she must honour, but her more pragmatic side maintained that life was brutal and often too short. If one did not seize opportunities for happiness - in whatever unlikely form they might arise - one might not even live long enough to regret it. 

The scars she had sustained in those few weeks away were many, and not all were visible. It would be a lie to say that rutting with Ulag had not caused her significant pain, but that very pain had grounded and centered her, and reminded her that it was real and not yet another dream from which she would awaken and hate the waking. It reminded her of what she had endured to get here, and would act as a mental edict not to make the mistake of letting that other life claim her again now.

“Cover up,” called Ulag. Then, after a pause, “Assuming you don’t want anyone to see your _lulgijak_.”

Ulag rarely lapsed into Orcish, communicating in the Common tongue even amongst his orc brethren. Thalia surmised it was to keep his words and intentions open and transparent to all who followed him, no matter their race. She was not familiar with this particular term, but given the context, she took an educated guess and dragged a fur over her nudity seconds before four orcs entered the tent carrying a large metal tub between them. By the way they hefted it, it was clearly already part-filled with water. Behind them came a few other volunteers (although the term was probably loosely applied when it came to Ulag’s demands) carrying jugs of steaming water. Within moments, the deed was done, the orcs and their helpers had departed, and the tent now boasted a hot bath. Throughout it all, Ulag oversaw the operation with neither a stitch of clothing, nor the remotest hint of shame.

Thalia needed no invitation to submerge herself in the soothing waters and, after a quick, cautious test of the temperature, she swung her legs over the side and dunked herself beneath the surface. When she came up for air, her companion was leaning on the edge of the tub, idly swirling his hand in the water.

“Three,” he said.

“Three what?” asked Thalia.

“Two.”

“Oh gods.”

“…one.”

Thalia scrambled away from the edge to press herself against the back of the tub a split second before Ulag rolled his bulk over the side and sploshed into the small metal bath, displacing half the water as he did so. Thalia spluttered and splashed at him resentfully, until he caught her in his grasp and hauled her up to lie on his chest. Unable to stay angry at him, Thalia giggled and splashed as she found a comfortable resting position then exhaled heavily, a contented smile on her face.

“I did warn you,” said Ulag.

“Promise you’ll give me more warning than that when it counts,” Thalia admonished.

The orc’s smile would have made a puddle of the most ancient permafrost. “The Thalia I knew _liked_ surprises,” he said.

The words were calculated, Thalia knew. Not only did it evoke their childhood and remind her how well he knew the girl she had been, with her unbridled excitement at surprises, it also harked back to their first reunion, when he had surprised her in the most intimate - and enjoyable - manner. Thalia was instantly transported back to a dingy room below ground, where no natural daylight pervaded, and a small barred cell where a young orc waited out his days alone. She recalled careening into the room, braids flying, hands clutching the newest treasure her father had brought her back from his travels abroad - a beautiful bronze brooch-pin formed like a stylised horse. She remembered seeing his despondency transform to joy at her arrival, and his enthusiasm rising to match hers, even though he barely glanced at the brooch. 

Thalia ran her hand over the broad, green chest beneath her, tracing lines through the damp, black hair that spidered across it. He had grown strong, her Ulag, in both body and character. She glanced up into his eyes and caught her breath at the mix of naked desire and affection she found. From there, her gaze was drawn to his lips, slightly parted and speckled with moisture. He had kissed her only twice in all the hours they had spent in intimacy, and in form at least, their mouths were not made for one another, but at that instant, there was nothing Thalia wanted more. As though sensing her intention, Ulag lifted her further up his chest to within kissing distance, and she lowered her head to his. Thalia placed feathery kisses against the moist surface of his lower lip. His hands tightened where they supported her around her ribs, but he did not interfere. Thalia smiled against him and pressed her lips more fully against his. While they were broader, he returned the gesture with no detriment to the sensation, and it sent a little flood of warmth across her skin.

She sank back down to rest on his chest, burning with the need to express to him how much their latest entanglement had meant to her, now that she was in full control of her linguistic abilities again. 

“Last time we were together, I thought nothing could ever feel so good.” She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I was wrong.”

Thalia was not sure she had ever seen a creature look quite so pleased with himself as that damned orc did just then. She drew back, sliding a little further down his chest, to stop abruptly as Ulag’s own arousal prevented her descent.

“Already?”

Ulag waggled his eyebrows.

“I got in here to get clean, not dirtier,” she protested.

The orc shrugged and leaned back with his arms behind his head as Thalia set about her ablutions. She felt a little self-conscious with him watching her, but he was at least not interfering, so she counted it as a success. Some time later, when they had both had their fill of the bath, they emerged and dried off, and as Thalia turned to reach for her drink, she found Ulag standing close behind her. His proximity was utterly intoxicating; the heat emanating from him made her light-headed and sent delightful tingles of anticipation throughout her body. 

The orc’s huge hands grasped her shoulders, covering most of her upper arms in his expansive grip. One lone thumb traced lightly along the edge of one of her scars. “Tell me about this.” 

Thalia sucked in an uncomfortable breath and swivelled to face him. His face betrayed the strength of the need that drove his question. She empathised, but she didn’t want their night to be marred by talk of Orin, and if that meant diverting the big green lunk’s attention for the rest of the evening, Thalia decided that was something she could live with.

“I want to taste you.”

Thalia was pleased to see her companion’s expression bleed from concern to excitement. She had yet to encounter a male who could not be swayed by such an offer, and by the look on Ulag’s face, you would have sworn it was his birthday. She stroked her fingers down the side of his thick, sinewy neck, over the powerful bulge of his chest, and pushed at him until he stepped back and tumbled onto the furs. She leaned over him and dropped kisses across his chest, nipping and licking at random so her partner never knew what might be coming next. She ran her tongue over the rings at his nipples, tugging at them with her teeth, and judging by his reactions, his description about how they felt must be accurate. From there she kissed a path down over the contours of his abdomen, until she reached his sizeable erection. She slipped her breasts either side of it and began to grind against him gently, stimulated as much by his rapid intake of breath as the sensation of his rough skin and wiry hair against her turgid nipples.

She lowered herself to the floor, which brought his penis to face height, and taking it in her hand, she paused for a moment to appreciate it. It stood proud in her grasp, as thick around as her wrist towards the tip, and even wider towards its base. Pulsing veins crawled across its green surface, which was a little darker in colour than Ulag’s skin. The sight alone caused a dampness between her thighs, and as she imagined taking it into her mouth, and recalled how it had felt on previous occasions, it only increased her arousal. Ulag was watching her intently, lips parted, breathing hard. His eyes had already taken on a glaze of lust and she could almost feel him silently willing her to continue. 

Thalia could not hold back the groan of pleasure that escaped her lips as she took his head inside her mouth. The salt-bitter taste of his precum tingled on her tongue, and she wanted - needed - to taste him more fully. Given his prodigious size, she worked her way down his shaft slowly, easing her jaws apart to accommodate him, inch by inch, tongue swirling and flicking over the smooth, hard surface. Ulag’s breathing was ragged and his hands clenched and released convulsively in the furs as she slowly engulfed him. Thalia recalled the methods she had used last time to ease him into her throat without choking, and by taking him in gradually, letting her muscles become accustomed to the intense pressure, she found this time it was easier to remain in control and enjoy the experience. Eventually, her lips met his hips and for a moment she held her position, letting the feelings flood though her. She was aware of Ulag’s hard, muscular thighs, hot beneath her hands, of the wiry hair at his groin tickling her nose, of the slick between her thighs and the throbbing, hollow need inside her, but overriding all these sensations was that of Ulag’s enormous cock crammed into her mouth and throat, pulsing and engorged, and awaiting her pleasure.

A glance at the bed revealed that the orc’s head had fallen back, his huge jaw slack and his breathing irregular. Thalia would have smiled, had her lips not been stretched to their limits around the thick base of his shaft. Using her hands on his thighs as leverage, she pushed herself up, easing his manhood from her mouth until she could run her tongue around the tip and savour that salt-bitter taste, stronger now after her ministrations. Watching the orc’s every reaction, she let his member invade her mouth again, working her way down his stiff length with lips and tongue until he was again sheathed in her. His cry of passion was new. For the most part, Ulag had growled and grunted his way through their lovemaking, which Thalia had just assumed was natural for his kind. The sound Ulag now made was less guarded, and betrayed his excitement. Was he perhaps showing her his true feelings? Sucking in her cheeks to increase the constriction around her lover’s cock, Thalia eased it back out of her again, accompanied by little flicks of her tongue for good measure. As she reached the top and moved to slip his head from her mouth, she was met with resistance in the form of Ulag’s hand, which prevented her from removing his member from her mouth completely. Thalia smiled inwardly and swallowed him to the hilt again. Every time his cock hit the back of her throat and passed down into her gullet, it forced a fresh flood of her own juices, and by the time she had sheathed his weapon a few more times, her thighs were drenched. 

As she brought her head back up, Thalia again met Ulag’s hand, but this time it kept her head further down his shaft. Thalia wriggled and struggled for a moment. This far down, it thickened to the point where it was hard to breathe around, and she had been using her ascent to take in lungfuls of air. She adjusted, controlling her breathing and the spasming of her throat, and descended once more. On her next trip up, Ulag’s hand was lower still and it caused a minor flash of panic, followed by an even stronger wave of excitement. In breathless anticipation of what was coming, Thalia swallowed him to the hilt once more, holding her position and working her throat, tongue and lips around his trunk of a cock. As she made her move to come back up, his hand held her firm with no concession of movement. She raised her eyes as best she could to see what Ulag was up to, and found him with his head raised, watching her. They remained with their eyes locked for several long, breathless moments while Thalia writhed and struggled, caught between intense arousal and mild panic. 

With a growl of desire, Ulag reached down, keeping his hand locked against the back of Thalia’s head and grabbed her thighs with his free hand. In a feat of strength and coordination, he managed to pull her up by the legs and swivel her around so that her torso rested, inverted, on his. It had the unusual side effect of rotating Ulag’s cock around inside Thalia’s throat, and since he had not relieved the pressure on her head by one iota, it turned around by one hundred and eighty degrees inside her, the raised veins dragging against her insides. She let out a strangled cry of protest, which changed to a stifled shriek of pleasure as Ulag began to lick her soaking slit. His wide, hot tongue slathered her sensitive lips in fresh moisture, and ghosted over her clit. Thalia was already so aroused that another ounce of pressure at that point would have finished her. Ulag still had not moved his hand from the back of her head, but he now appeared to relent and allow her to rise up a few inches, where she met resistance again. Thalia had barely a second to wonder what he planned before he answered her unspoken question with a slow thrust of his hips. With her head held in place, Thalia could not prevent him from sinking his last few inches into her, and filling her throat. From this angle, it penetrated deeper, and his thrusts, slow at first but with increasing speed and vigour, were pushing her mouth and throat to their limits. Emboldened by Ulag’s own actions, Thalia began to grind herself against his lips, seeking the stronger stimulation her body craved. Ulag turned his head so that his tusk rubbed against her outer lips, moving it in slow circles until her entire body was quivering and her fingers and toes clenching with built-up pressure that demanded release. As though in tune with her thoughts, Ulag stuffed two thick digits into her tight, wet womanhood, and like a champion archer, targeted and hit her secret spot at the first attempt. Thalia’s eyes widened as the intrusion pushed her closer to her peak, and with his cock pumping her throat, his fingers curling on her sweet spot and his tongue flicking her clit, Thalia lost it. The orgasm ripped through her core, sending her entire body spasming and eliciting a strangled scream from her stuffed throat. She rode out wave after wave of wrenching pleasure, unable to move to escape or lessen the intense sensations that were threatening to blow her mind. Seconds later, Ulag reached his own climax, and with the pressure on her head gone, Thalia pulled up so that she could taste his issue, letting it gout into her mouth in copious quantities, thick with musk and salt. 

Removing his still-pulsing cock from her mouth, Thalia collapsed against him, tiny aftershocks still setting her abdomen a-quiver. She turned to smile at him over her shoulder, and the orc grinned and hauled her bodily around to curl against his side. They lay together like that for a while, smiling like idiots, reclaiming their breath. At length, Ulag squeezed her shoulder to bring her attention back to him.

"I never thanked you." 

Thalia laughed aloud. "You don't have to thank me for that! You did plenty." 

Ulag chuckled, then sobered, his eyes seeing a time and place far from the here and now. "If it weren't for you, I'd have died the night of the raid. Burned alive in that dungeon cell." 

Thalia looked at him askance and waved his thanks away. As if there were any other option. She could die trying to save him, or spend the rest of her life hating herself for letting him die. "I could never have left you," she said aloud. 

Ulag's fingers cupped her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his. "And I will never leave you." 

Slender human fingers entwined with thick, green orcish digits. Their differences were clear for all to see, but despite their physical dissimilarities, The two of them just worked. Thalia knew implicitly that Ulag’s words were true and that she could rely on him until the end of days. Her bliss was mirrored on his face and she laid her head against his huge tattooed shoulder, feeling him relax even as she did so. A pleasant lethargy came stealing through her veins, and she could hear Ulag’s breathing becoming slow and regular beneath her cheek. He might have the stamina of an ox, but they were both exhausted; Ulag from weeks of battle and worry, and Thalia from weeks of torture and stress. With their bodies tangled together under the furs, sleep claimed them both shortly thereafter, bringing with it a gentle and much-needed surcease.

—-

Something jolted Thalia awake in the middle of the night. For a long time she lay still, soothed by the feel of her lover’s great bulk behind her, of his arms around her, of his hot breath tickling the back of her neck. She breathed slowly to calm her racing heart and by and by, the vestiges of the nightmare evaporated. She was where she wanted to be, and there was no place on Azeroth that she could be safer than she was at that moment. She ran her fingers across the back of Ulag’s hand in the darkness, tracing the thick veins that crawled across the dark green skin, and the scars that criss-crossed them. They put her in mind of the roots and branches of trees: they had similar shapes and were just as strong. She felt him stir behind her, angling his head to press his lips against her shoulder, followed by a tongue against her neck, then a gentle nip on her ear.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered.

“I was dreaming,” he rumbled, sleep thickening his voice. “Glad you’re still here.”

“You’re stuck with me now,” she chuckled.

Ulag’s arms tightened about her and she wriggled contentedly in his embrace. Then a low-voiced query unsettled her again. “Tell me what happened to your back.”

With some difficulty, Thalia manouevered around in his arms until she was facing him. She could not make out his features in the blackness, so she raised a hand to rest against his cheek, connecting with him in that way. “We’re together, Ulag. That’s all that matters now.”

Ulag moved his fingers lightly over the skin on her back, gently cresting the raw ridges. Thalia did not doubt the orc knew who - and what - had caused them. The list of suspects was short. 

The woman moved her hand to his injured arm and touched the blackened skin cautiously. “Does this hurt?”

The orc grunted. “Bit sore.”

“And you don’t regret what you did to get this, do you?” she asked.

“It’s a battle wound,” argued Ulag.

“So are mine.”

The orc sighed, but appeared to let the matter drop. “We can talk to the healers later and get them to see to us both. I wanted to let them cure the half-dead first.”

Thalia nodded. Hopefully once the evidence was gone, she could keep him diverted and maybe they would both forget it, given enough time. His next words gave her cause for concern.

“I need to leave for a few days.”

Thalia raised herself on her elbow. “Tell me you’re not going after Orin.” 

It would of course be the first thing on the damned fool orc’s mind. Thalia took comfort in the knowledge that the ‘secrets’ she had divulged to him while under duress would be next to useless, barring a miracle. It had irked her a little at the time that she had been so tempted to reveal the truth and just let him grind Orin into so much mincemeat, but that annoying inner voice that was forever advocating for keeping her oath had intervened and convinced her to keep Ulag off his trail. 

The orc’s silence spoke volumes.

“Promise me you won’t go.”

“Why?” he demanded. 

“It’ll make things worse,” insisted Thalia.

Ulag pulled her close to impress on her the importance of what he was about to say. “A man like that doesn’t let go of something he considers his. You don’t think he’ll come after you? I’m not content to leave him out there, a hidden threat that might strike at any second. I want him gone. He’ll haunt you forever until you know he’s so much …” Ulag appeared to reconsider his words. “Dust.” He caught her chin, tilting her head towards him in the darkness. “Tell me exactly what he did.”

“Why is it so important to you?” asked Thalia in frustration.

“Because I’m going to make him pay for every second of pain he caused you.”

Thalia felt a flush of excitement at that, tinged with guilt. Regardless, she fretted but little. Even if the orc did go after Orin, contrary to her wishes, the information she had given him was useless. There was indeed a White Copse about a hundred miles south, just as she described it, but it was old and abandoned, and Orin had never set foot there. They lay for a while in silence, their plans at odds, their bodies and minds fighting exhaustion. Eventually, lulled by the rushing whisper of the wind outside, they both sank back into a dreamless sleep.

Thalia awoke and reached sleepily for the orc form at her side, but the bed was cold and empty. Sunlight filtered through the part-open tent doorway, and the sounds and smells of breakfast wafted through the opening. Warily, she pulled on her pants and shirt and made her way outside, noting the absence of Ulag’s armour and axe as she went. Sure enough, a brief conversation with Ghorza, the female orc chief soon revealed that her chieftain had left in the early hours with some fifteen hand-picked warriors, and had taken the road south. Thalia cursed aloud.

Thalia made her way back to her own tent in the human encampment. She might feel a little ashamed about sending Ulag on a wild goose chase, but ultimately, the orc had chosen to go against her wishes, so to some extent, he would have no-one to blame but himself when he could not find the man he sought. She imagined his frustration, and how annoyed he would be when he returned. There might even be spanking. Grinning with a little guilty anticipation at the thought, Thalia made her way inside her tent, where she dug out and changed into fresh clothing, easing her shirt on over the aching scars. A voice from the doorway startled her.

“Don’t cover them up. I like looking at my handiwork.”

Thalia’s blood ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I keep changing my mind on the approach I’m taking from here out, and it took me a while to decide whether to write this scene or skip ahead. Well, that and I got sidertacked writing other smut. XD


	11. The Rejection

White marble spires punctuated a low-lying villa built of rosy pink granite. It covered a large portion of the floor of the small valley, and was divided into sections by glittering pools of water. Tall trees with leafy fronds waving from their heights provided shade and beauty, and a profusion of fruit bushes clustered against the far wall of the vale. Here in the arid southern lands, such opulence could mean only one thing: a combination of vast riches and impregnable defences. No-one flouted their resources in such a way unless they had some serious protection against thieves and marauders. The place might look like an ostentatious home, but make no mistake: it was a fortress.

A small group gathered at the lip of the valley; an eclectic mix of races, skin dusked by months under a harsh and unfamiliar sun, all driven by their leader’s unshakable purpose. A lone figure took the lead, striding to stand at the valley’s edge. The hot southern breeze made a death-rattle of the beads in his hair, and stirred the feathers and bones that decorated the dangling locks. The long dreads were caught up and tied at the back of his skull, laying bare the shaved sides above his ring-bedecked ears. Powerful muscles moved and twitched under the dark-green hide, mottled with tattoos and pierced through with small bones in unlikely places, each one representing a significant kill. The bones were many.

A second orc moved to stand at his side, his shaved pate shining in the afternoon sun. They exchanged but few words. Their plans had been laid long in advance. This was the culmination of many months of searching and marching, of following leads that terminated in dead ends. There would be no error today, no further delay. The man they sought would die at Ulag’s hands.

Torug gave a signal that summoned the rest of their following to join them at the edge, and with no sound, no warning, no battle-cry, five hundred warriors descended silently on the villa.

The physical defences were shattered at their first destructive charge, and Ulag was the first to enter, Torug at his heels. They were met within seconds by Orin’s house guard, who were dispatched like so many flies. While the larger part of his army spread out in an agreed formation through the villa grounds, Ulag and his companion took a direct path to the central courtyard, where the intelligence gathered over recent weeks indicated the man they sought was wont to linger. Too long had he haunted Ulag’s thoughts, thwarted his plans, and kept from him the one thing he needed to make his life complete. Too long had he held his lover prisoner and interfered in their lives. Today, there would be no quarter, no bargaining, no second chances. The man would die, Ulag would be reunited with his love, and the volunteers who formed Ulag’s makeshift army could get back to their lives.

The courtyard guards offered a token resistance and were summarily cut down by Ulag’s axe and Torug’s hammer. Blood misted the air and marred the pristine stone. Ulag was aware, vaguely of tinkling fountains, mosaic floors, shady trees and white marble, but it all faded as he came upon the wretch he sought. Ulag hauled him aloft by his shirt front, leering into the man’s pale face, and letting him see his own death in the orc chief’s eyes. The man stuttered out a stream of nonsense, which Ulag summarily ignored. Babbling words, desperate pleas, cowardly lies. Dropping the reviled creature back to his feet, Ulag silenced them all with a single slice of his axe. For several long heartbeats, he stood watching the blood leach from the torn neck, half expecting the blonde head to magically reattach itself as it sometimes did in his nightmares. The crimson gouts subsided into a slow, steady trickle. The corpse did not move. Orin was dead.

For the first time in eighteen long months, the orc chief who had united tribes and clans across the races of Azeroth, beaten back an invasion from a hell-dimension and tracked down an elusive lord despite his enemy’s use of dark magics, could finally breathe easy.

A few feet away, Torug humphed. “Thought you’d make it last longer,” he commented.

Ulag shook his head, and the motion followed through into his shoulders and torso, shucking the pent-up worries of the last year and a half. “I’m past that,” he admitted. “I just want this over. Find her,” he issued the command to three of his honour guard. They needed no further instruction.

Ulag picked up the decapitated head of his enemy in one massive shovel of a hand and strode across to a large high-backed chair on a dais overlooking the courtyard’s central pool. He seated himself with the head in his hand. A moment’s reconsideration and he placed the head under his foot and lounged back on the broad, cushioned chair. 

After he had rearranged his position a third time, Torug wandered over to stand beside him. Clearing his throat he coughed, “Show-off.”

The ghost of a smile hovered at Ulag’s lips, the first hint of such an expression to grace the orc’s rough features in many a long month. He endured Torug’s good-natured teasing with a humour he was aware had been lacking from his demeanour in recent times. Yes, he was making something of a spectacle of his rescue, but given the length of time it had taken to track Orin and Thalia down, he felt he was due some small measure of theatrics. 

The moments stretched on, seemingly interminable, while the fountains tinkled and exotic insects buzzed and chittered then finally, the orcs reappeared. His instruction to keep their allegiance a secret from Thalia until they should meet eye to eye had apparently not worked out well for his honour guard. Two of them ushered her forward, grasping one arm each. One sported a bloody nose, the other was limping while the third trailed behind with a bleeding bicep. Perhaps he should have warned them not to expect compliance, but the sight alone filled him with hope. His Thalia was as spirited as ever and it caused his chest to swell with pride and excitement.

Although it was part of Ulag’s instructions to them, the orc chieftain had a feeling they rather enjoyed hurling their charge forward to stand before his makeshift throne. He would compensate them for their trouble later. Thalia took in the scene in a series of rapid double-takes. Her annoyance at the orcs’ treatment faded as she recognised Ulag and Torug, and happiness began to light her eyes and the corners of her lips. A glance to Ulag’s feet changed everything. The sight of the blonde head wedged beneath Ulag’s massive boot drained all the colour from Thalia’s cheeks. Her mouth fell open in utter dismay and her face contorted into a rictus of horror, then she tangled her hands into her hair and let out a sob that sent a a wave of shock through the orc chief. Had he been so wrong about her? Were his nightmares about Thalia and Orin rutting together and ridiculing him a reflection of the truth? It _could not be_. Thalia was his true north, and never in all his imaginings of this moment - and there had been many of them - had he envisaged her reacting with grief to his dispatching of the bastard that had stolen their happiness.

He had no further time to wonder. Taking a wheezing, shaking breath, Thalia launched herself at him with a scream of fury on her lips and landed a harsh slap across Ulag’s face. 

The orcs assembled in the courtyard fell utterly silent. The tinkling of the fountains and the hum of insect life was deafening. The slap had barely registered as physical pain, but what it connoted, what it meant for them all from here onwards caused a physical ache in Ulag’s chest. Had it all been in vain? 

Thalia was moving again now, drawing back from him with tears falling unchecked down her cheeks. She turned around, her anger apparently spent and she sat down heavily on the step with her back to him, sobs wracking her slender frame.

Ulag, Chief of Ten Tribes sat atop the throne with his vanquished enemy beneath his boot and hung his head in defeat.


	12. The Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so mean with that last chapter. It’s all for dramatic effect and it will all make sense (I hope!). Also, if you thought you hated a certain someone before… XD

Thalia turned slowly, ice in her veins at the sound of that hideous voice that still echoed through her nighttime dreamscapes. Orin stood at the tent doorway, flanked by two of his personal guard and backed by the mysterious priest that had sealed their union. 

“Do it.” Orin’s face twisted with an obscene mix of distaste and relish. The priest, face and race again obscured by his hood, stepped forward. The two guards rushed past him on either side and seized Thalia’s arms, holding them out to the sides.

Thalia instantly fought back, hauling one of the guards towards her to gain some movement in her arm, and snapping her elbow towards his face. He released her with a curse and staggered back, blood spurting from his broken nose. The other guard stepped behind her and seized the free arm while Orin drew a knife and held it in front of her threateningly. Thalia’s mind was wild with rebellion. She would not go quietly back to Orin’s captivity. _Death first._ The priest had reached her by now and extended his taloned hand towards her stomach. 

“Well?” snapped Orin.

The hooded figure laid its hand across the woman’s belly and bowed its head. Thalia made ready to move. She planned to throw her head back and crack the nose of the guard behind her, then bring up her knee to connect with the head of the priest and smash in his face. Assuming he had a face. Before she could act, foul, black tendrils of magic pervaded her abdomen in a most intimate and intrusive manner. The woman blanched and held back a scream. In five long weeks, Orin had been unable to exact a vocal reaction to his torture, and she would be damned if she would give him the satisfaction now - but it was over quickly. The priest raised his head and turned to the Lord of Gresta.

“A seed has taken root.” The voice was guttural, alien and made Thalia think of wet, rotten dead things that lurked in places untouched by light. The meaning of his words was not lost on her however, and her gut filled with lead. There was a possibility that she was carrying Orin’s child, but it was equally possible that Ulag was the sire. Could the priest’s foul magicks divine what race the baby would be?

“How far along?” Orin’s nasal voice demanded.

“A month, give or take.”

As Orin nodded pensively, the tent flap opened and one of the Grestan Lord’s senior officers entered. 

“Trent,” Orin greeted him. “Take over from that incompetent, will you?”

The guard with the broken nose gratefully took his leave and stumbled outside, clutching at his bloody face. Trent took up his position behind Thalia, and assisted the remaining guard in restraining her. 

“Now, my love, my dearest _wife_ , we’re going to go home.” It was testament to the man’s innate vileness that he could make such innocuous words sound so threatening.

Thalia dragged up some of the most colourful invective in her arsenal from her younger days adventuring, and wrenched at her arms, but Trent and his companion held firm.

Orin stepped closer, running the edge of the blade against Thalia’s cheek. “Such language. You should learn to hold your tongue. Bearing a child does not require one to have a pretty face, my dear.” The knife ghosted around the edge of her lips, the blade laden with unspoken threats. Orin and Trent snickered together.

“As I was saying, we’re going to go home, and you’re going to bring forth my child.” He stepped closer until he loomed directly above her. His knife travelled down across her neck, around the curve of her breast, and stopped over her stomach where he poked the tip against her clothing. “If what comes out from between your legs is anything other than human - anything other than _mine_ -” the knife slipped between her thighs, and Thalia’s breath stopped. “Then you - and it - will die very, _very_ slowly, and you will _long_ for the days when I only whipped you.”

This was apparently a source of much hilarity to Trent, who broke into a braying laugh just behind her left ear. Had it not been for the position of the knife and its implicit threat, Thalia would have carried out her initial plan and dealt some serious damage to both Orin and the men behind her, but knowing that she might be carrying Ulag’s child made her cautious. She might have to submit to Orin for now, and accompany him south, but she was intelligent and resourceful, and had faith in her own abilities. She had escaped once; she would surely find a way to do the same again.

It made one thing clear though: Orin either suspected or knew about her affair with Ulag. In truth they had not been subtle last night, indeed, the generals and leaders, themselves representing almost all the races on Azeroth had given her and Ulag a round of applause when they had disappeared together into the command tent. Orin himself could not have witnessed that, but no doubt he had his sources. Although her interactions since then had been few, she had had no indication from either the orcs, humans or any others she had met and conversed with on her way here this morning that anyone thought any the less of her. The Portal War had forged new friendships and engendered deeper understanding and tolerance between the races. The same it seemed did not hold true for Orin - but then again, he had not been involved in the War since the very first day, preferring to hide away from the fight and amuse himself with her torture.

“Let her go.” The voice came from the doorway behind Orin, and was laced with steely purpose. As Orin turned, Thalia could see past him to make out Drinn standing in the entryway, sword drawn and held steady. A veteran of many battles and still strong and spry despite his iron-grey hair, Thalia had little doubt who would win in a straight fight; but this was Orin, and Drinn was never going to get one. She didn’t even have time to blurt a warning. The hooded priest stepped forward and loosed some hideous Immolation spell that melded flame and shadow, and blasted Drinn out of the tent door. 

Thalia cried out in denial, and Orin turned slowly back to face her, his face lit with malevolent revelation. 

“Ahhhhh. I’ve been going about this all wrong.” He sauntered back to stand before her, idly twirling the knife in his hands. “All those weeks of pain and not a single peep. But if I harm those you care about… cause you _mental_ suffering…” He appeared to roll the idea around in his head for a moment, perhaps considering how to make best use of the knowledge, then said, “I should thank your old greybeard there for helping me discover your weakness.” He turned to cast a glance outside. “But I don’t think he can hear me any more.”

“Bastard.” Tears flowed unchecked down Thalia’s cheeks. Drinn had been a trusted advisor and a staunch supporter ever since she had come to Dinas Hir, and over time she had also come to count him as a friend. The two had made long-term plans for the city’s protection until the rightful ruler should come of age, and many a night they had talked until the wee hours, being of like and modest minds. His loss already hurt, even more so because he had died protecting her. She swore that one day she would take vengeance on Orin and the damnable priest that served him. 

Orin caught her under the chin with the flat of his knife blade and tilted her head up. “What have I told you about your language?” His smile was cold. “There’s something quite … slutty about a crying woman, don’t you think, Trent? Something whorish?”

Behind Thalia, Trent clucked his tongue and and issued a long-suffering sigh. “Really, Orin…”

“That’s _Lord_ Orin to you.”

The voice at her back fell silent, but Thalia wondered a little at Orin’s permissiveness with this man. She had seen him mete brutal punishment for far lesser offences. Were they perhaps kin, as she had thought when Trent had spoken out in the command tent? Orin surprised her then by leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a moist, hard kiss. Thalia cried out in disgust and twisted aside as best she could with the blade at her throat. Orin withdrew with a sneer.

“You prefer the _orc_.” His tone made the word sound like something he might scrape off his boot.

Thalia could not find the means to answer. Her mind was overwrought: she had just seen a good friend die and she was dealing with the revelation that she was carrying a child. If it was Ulag’s, they would both die. If it was Orin’s, she feared she would resent it, and Orin would probably kill her anyway. And now it seemed very likely that she would be forced to return to Orin’s home, where no doubt he would continue to cause her physical and mental anguish, and she had just sent the one being who could prevent it all off on a wild goose chase. The world swam before her eyes.

“Some people _prefer_ animals.” The snide remark came from behind her head this time. These two really were of like mind.

Orin was silent for a while, and if Thalia had been more observant at that moment, she would have realised it could bode only ill, but her gaze was off in a future made impossible by the latest turn of events. 

“Ready the horses.”

The words were enough to jolt her back to awareness. “I won’t go.”

Orin leaned in leer into her face, which was twisted with a mix of sadness and defiance. “You will. You’ll be quiet, and you’ll comport yourself like my happy lady wife until we’re clear of this stinking camp.” At Thalia’s look of ridicule, he smiled and added, “Trent here is a great shot. If I give the word, he’ll find your pet orc and put an arrow through its heart.” 

“He’ll find me, and you’ll die.” It was a simple statement of fact. There was no more to it than that in Thalia’s mind, just an incontrovertible truth.

Orin laughed, and Trent joined him. Thalia wondered if the officer did it to curry favour or if the two were just so horribly alike. The Lord of Gresta imparted his final thoughts in a tone of malicious glee. “You think you were any more than a lay to that animal? You think it wasn’t rutting its way through every last non-human slut in the camp while you were gone? You think it'll risk its hide for you now that the the alliance is over?”

Thalia shook her head in denial, but Orin’s words began to eat at her. She did not know for certain that what he proposed wasn’t true, and it planted a seed of doubt that would eat away at her for months under Orin’s relentless victimisation. Thalia had no more time to contemplate his words. He ushered them all out and towards the horses and as they rode from the camp for the last time, Thalia caught sight of the charred mass of bones that had once been one of her closest friends. Tears began afresh. Orin had a lot to answer for.


	13. Path to Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia tells her side of the last 18 months' events.

The soft music of the fountains rang out across the silent courtyard. If there had been a more unpleasant moment in Ulag’s life, he could not recall it. Months of searching, of marching under a blazing sun, of hardship and uncertainty for the hundreds who had set out with him and now at the last, they would all find out that the mission had been doomed to failure since before it began. Torug had been right. All this time, Thalia had doubtless been lying content in her husband’s bed, laughing with him at what a fool they had made of Ulag, Chief of Ten Tribes. It bit at him, ate at him; he was not about to let that lie. 

Torug caught the glint in his eye and motioned to everyone to leave the courtyard. “Go. Kill and loot. It’s what we came for.”

When all had departed, Ulag stood and moved to stand behind Thalia on the dais steps, filled with fury and indignation. Her body still shook with the force of her grief and the orc chief scowled. She deserved no pity, faithless and treacherous creature that she was.

“Was it always him, Thalia? Was everything we had a lie?” The woman raised her head, but did not immediately respond. It made matters worse and Ulag let loose with his scorn. “All those words you spoke to me in the dark of the night, the promises, the vows. All lies! Why? Why the deception? Do you know how long I searched for you? How many people I bribed, how many I killed? And all that time, you were in love with him?”

At last, Thalia turned towards him, a mix of incredulity and disgust on her tear-streaked features. “You think I’m here because I _love_ him?” she sputtered, and Ulag recoiled at the intensity of her rebuttal. “You really think in a million years I would have chosen him over-” She broke off, choking on her words. She shook her head and dry-washed her face with her hands.

“He alone could have told us where our son is.”

The words hung on the still air and Ulag digested that for a moment. “You bore him a son?”

Thalia snapped her head around to fix him with the full force of her desperate glare. “ _OUR_ son, Ulag!”

There were few times in his life that Ulag had been lost for words, the first time he had seen Thalia naked being one of the few other times he could recall. His jaw fell slack and his emotions ran the gamut from amazement to relief to delight, then just as quickly, to horror at the sight of the man’s rolling head. He reached down, seized Thalia’s arms and hauled her to her feet. “Tell me!” 

The words, too long held in check came out in a flood, almost too fast to take in. He caught the salient points. Orin had come for her as soon as he himself had left to hunt the man down, although it seemed this was more serendipity than planning on Orin’s part. They had travelled south for months, while Thalia constantly fretted about her child’s parentage, and Orin thwarted her every escape attempt, until eventually her heavily pregnant state had forced them to stop. With the raided coffers of Gresta at his disposal, Orin had appropriated the villa in which they now stood, initially intending only to stay until the child was born. It was at this point Thalia broke off, choking on her words as she dealt with painful memories. Ulag pulled her down to sit on the dais step and slipped a supporting arm around her. He fumbled at his belt for a small flask of rum he kept on him - for emergencies - and proffered it to her.

Thalia blinked at it through a haze of tears, then snatched it from him and swallowed half the contents in a single draught. Taking a steadying breath, she told him her story. What she described to the orc was a vision straight out of hell. If Orin had wanted to conjure a scenario that would cause either of them ultimate suffering, he could have done no better than this.

—-

In Thalia’s birthing chamber, the Lord of Gresta stood at the end of a blood-soaked bed, holding a small, green form in one hand and a sharp, cruel blade in the other. The midwife had been ordered from the room as soon as the child was separated from his mother, and no other would intrude. Thalia was haemorrhaging badly, her body failing her, powerless to do anything to physically prevent Orin from harming her baby. His face was cold and calculating as he watched her struggle to maintain consciousness and drag herself towards him across the bed.

“Don’t - please, I’ll do anything. I’ll bear you a child of your own if that’s what you want - just _let him live_.” Her words were slurred from exhaustion and blood loss, but she could not succumb: there was no fight in her life more important than this.

The blade hovered inches above pale green flesh while the infant kicked and squalled in the man’s grasp. He eyed her carefully, then appeared to consider her offer. “You would, wouldn’t you?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes. _Anything_.”

Orin nodded, raised the knife above the newborn, studying her face intently as though trying to decide whether to cut the boy open before her eyes or accept her promises, then just as quickly, he sheathed it. Thalia collapsed back onto the blood-soaked sheets. 

“I believe you would, Thalia. But I don’t trust you to keep your word to me without some … security. If I give him back to you now, I think you’ll both be gone as soon as my back is turned.”

Thalia shook her head in vehement denial.

“I’d like to believe you, but you’ve already betrayed me.” He tilted the tiny creature towards her as though offering evidence to support his words. Every instinct in Thalia’s body, entrenched through thousands of years of motherhood screamed at her to rescue the precious life from him, but her condition prevented her. There was no feeling more infuriating, more frustrating or more terrifying in all the world, and Thalia would have given her very soul to have been able to act.

“No, I think it’s best for all concerned if the brat is kept safely away from you.” He ignored her cries of protest and looked over his left shoulder. The figure of the hooded priest appeared from the shadows and held out a taloned hand. Thalia screamed impotently from her birthing bed, while the creature took her child in its grasp and vanished back into the darkness.

—

Thalia broke off, overtaken by emotion once more. She began to twist her hands in her long skirts until the knuckles showed white. “I only held him for a second, Ulag. He was _beautiful_. He was beautiful and he took him from me. He took him from me.” She kept repeating the words like a litany. 

Ulag’s face contorted and he held her close, wracked with an almost physical pain for what his lover had endured without him. How could he have thought so poorly of her? He kicked himself mentally for his idiotic paranoia. She was beginning to speak again, calmer now that the worst was past and he cocked an ear to listen.

For the most part, it appeared Orin had done nothing worse to her after the theft of her child than he had done previously. What more _could_ he do? Bound by her word, she did not disobey his requests, nor try to leave, and it appeared her one solace was that he had not laid a finger on her in a sexual manner in the whole time since they left the orc camp, preferring instead to torment her about the safety of her baby, and about Ulag’s lack of interest in her fate. 

“He didn’t take you up on the offer of another child then?” 

Something pained flitted across Thalia’s face for a moment, then was gone again. She shook her head, glancing behind her to where the bloody trophy lay, the last remains of her husband and tormentor. 

“I’m surprised you killed him so quickly,” she commented, with genuine feeling. Ulag recognised an intentional change of subject when he saw one, but given the amount of stress their previous discussion was evidently causing her, he let it go.

“Torug said the same,” remarked the orc. “I just wanted this over with so we could start our lives together.”

Thalia reached for his hand and their fingers entwined. She raised the warm skin to her lips and kissed it then held it against her cheek. Then, hesitantly, she brought her gaze up to meet his and seemed to actually see him for the first time. “I like your hair.”

Ulag chuckled. “Ghorza got bored on the march down.”

“Well, at least she didn’t give you a mohawk.” While Thalia spoke the words in jest, something lurked behind her eyes, a deeper hurt that Ulag could not yet fathom. He surmised it was concern for their son.

“We will find him, Thalia, you and I.” His reassurance seemed to calm her somewhat, so Ulag finally felt the time was ripe for him to ask some of the pointed questions that were plaguing him. “Why didn’t you send for me? I would have come…”

“It was one of Orin’s conditions, to ensure the child’s safety. If I tried to leave or get a message to you-” She shook her head and rubbed her hands over her arms, unable to even bring herself to countenance the results of Orin’s threats. 

“Are you certain no-one else could know where the priest took him?”

Thalia shook her head. “I have searched his records, bribed and quizzed his advisors. He may have been appalling when it came to battle tactics, but he was good at keeping secrets that preserved his own skin.” She met his searching gaze. “There is no-one, Ulag.”

The orc chief's face turned from despondency to anger and he stood and strode to the edge of the pool, looking back over his shoulder accusingly. “I would have killed him that night in the command tent, but _you_ stayed my hand-”

“And I have regretted that decision every second of every day since,” she shot back.

Ulag calmed visibly. There was no sense going over what might have happened had one of them acted differently. They could not change the past, only work towards the future they wanted. “Sorry.”

Thalia waved away his apology. “Did Orin have any last words? Did he not mention our son when you killed him? I would have used that to bargain for my life.”

Ulag kicked a drinking cup into the pristine water, watching the wine disperse like a bloodstain. “No. He died a coward. He kept claiming he wasn’t Orin.” Ulag snorted. “As if I’d fall for that.”

Behind him, Thalia gave a little cry, and he turned to find her clambering up the steps to retrieve her husband’s decapitated head. As he watched in confusion, she turned the grisly thing over in her hands, unborn hope leaching its way on to her features until finally she yelled aloud.

“It’s not him! Orin’s still alive!”

Ulag mounted the dais in two swift strides, “Then who is this?” he demanded.

“Trent,” she laughed. At Ulag’s querying glance, she elucidated. “His brother … bodyguard … lover … decoy, I don’t know. But either way, it’s not Orin! I never thought I could be so happy to find out he’s not dead!”

Ulag breathed an enormous sigh of relief. “So he’s still out there.” 

Thalia dropped Trent’s head to the ground with an unceremonious squelch. “Could he have known you were coming?”

Ulag made a moue. “I suppose wind of our march might have reached him.”

Thalia fixed him with a wry glare. “How many are you?”

“Five hundred.”

“Orcs?”

“Some orcs, some Tauren, a Draenei mage that Torug can’t keep his hands off…”

Thalia managed a wan smile at that. “Subtlety is not your strong point, Ulag.”

“We’ll find him,” said the orc, taking her face in his hands and using the contact to convey to her his utter belief in those words.

“And what will we _not_ do when we catch up with him?” asked Thalia pointedly.

“Kill him,” grumbled Ulag. Holding his lover in his arms, he looked out over the desert vista beyond the rose marble walls, and made a silent vow to himself. When he found the elusive lord, he would make him talk, and when their son was safe in his mother’s arms, then Ulag would have his vengeance, and gods help the Lord of Gresta when Ulag finally got his hands on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are still enjoying. My little one-shot smut fic has gotten a little out of hand...
> 
> If you feel so inclined, please do drop a comment. I'd love to hear from you. 🙂


	14. Orcish lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia learns a few words of Orcish. XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this ended up being rather longer than I intended! I’ve been really excited to share it but it’s taken a LOT of work. Oh, and Ulag passes on his apologies for what happens in the second half of this chapter. Apparently his excuse is, “Thalia made me do it.” :p

Easing herself reluctantly from Ulag’s embrace, Thalia took in the vista of the blood-spattered courtyard littered with bodies, the overturned furniture, and the shattered pottery. Many of the tinkling fountains ran a garish red. They really had made a mess of things, but she could find no sympathy for those who died - they were all complicit in Orin’s plans. Ulag’s hand remained on her shoulder meanwhile, exuding a raw heat through the thin material of the dress, until she regretfully pushed it away. She needed to think, and that was never going to be possible with the orc’s hands on her. 

“Where are you camped?”

Ulag indicated the eastern wall and the valley slope beyond with a tilt of his head. “About a mile over that ridge.”

“Let’s go.” There was nothing here for her and she could not wait to put this whole episode of her life behind her. 

“Is there nothing you want to take with you?”

Thalia considered that for a moment. Anything that was hers to use in this place had been provided by Orin, including the clothes she was currently wearing. She wanted none of it. But there was one item he had taken from her that she did not want to leave in his possession, if she could but find it.

Ulag followed her into the cool interior of the villa, hovering at her elbow, one arm raised protectively just behind her back as they hurried along. He needn’t have concerned himself. His invading force had taken care of any resistance and they would meet no threat. Presently, they reached their destination, a solid wooden door bound in iron that barred the way to Orin’s study. Thalia tried the handle but as always, it thwarted her efforts. Ulag motioned her aside and threw the edge of his fist against the impeding wood. Thalia grinned her thanks and stepped over the fallen barrier. She began to rifle through drawers and cupboards, tossing aside trinkets and instruments until at last she let out a satisfied ‘hah’. Holding Ulag’s gaze, she slipped the claw pendant he had given her back around her neck where it belonged. Ulag tilted his head back and nodded, exhaling in acknowledgment. Beneath the pendant in the drawer Thalia found a black leather-bound book. A quick examination proved it to be written in Orin’s hand, and she took it. it might contain some clue as to their son’s location.

Their task accomplished, Thalia could not leave the compound fast enough, and soon they were hurrying across the dry earth of the valley floor towards Ulag’s camp. Within a very short space of time however, she found the long, trailing skirts of the orange silk garment she was wearing had a tendency to get caught under her feet and tangled in the scrub brush that lined the path. After hauling it from a particularly vicious thorn bush which rent a huge slash in the front, Thalia cursed aloud. “Stupid dress!”

“Take it off then,” came the singularly unhelpful suggestion from her companion. She turned to see Ulag’s face suffused with mischief and she shook her head at him in mock-despair, secretly flattered and amused at his teasing. She had missed his company as much as his touch, and she had spent many a lonely hour conjuring visions of her warrior orc to assuage the emptiness she felt at his absence. Their more recent relationship as adults had been brief but intense, and on a rational level, Thalia knew she had spent only had a handful of days in his company. It was not enough time to truly get to know someone, but Ulag’s actions spoke volumes, and she had spent months on end with him as a child, so she felt she knew the core of his personality better than anyone else she had ever met. True, the years had transformed him into a formidable destructive force, but one with such heart, such passion and tenacity that when those energies were channeled, not only did he have an unshakable drive, but others were inspired to follow.

They had reached camp by now, and Thalia marvelled at the sheer variety of races represented. True, the majority appeared to be orcs, but in amongst them were bulky, shaggy Tauren, slender, horned Draenei and even a few humans. The latter were in a decided minority, but there were a few faces she recognised. However she did not know every soldier in her ranks by sight, so the rest could have been from either Dinas Hir or Gresta for all she knew. As they passed the entrance to the pallisade of animal tusks that had been erected at the border, a cheer went up, and applauding figures lined the path to the camp centre as she and Ulag traversed it. The orc chief grabbed her waist and pulled her close, raising his fist to celebrate their success and thank those who had joined him on his quest. Feeling a little embarrassed by the attention, Thalia extricated herself from the very public display as soon as was polite, and followed the beckoning arm of a Draenei mage away from the main concourse.

The mage introduced herself as Nati and pulled Thalia to the porch of a tent where they could watch the celebrations in relative seclusion. Many still raised hands or cups in her direction, or came to gawp until the Draenei shooed them away.

Thalia gratefully took a small cup of herb tea Nati brewed for her, and sat in silence until the mage eventually asked after her wellbeing.

Thalia swallowed down the hot, sweet brew and nodded. “Just… a little overwhelmed.”

At Thalia’s glance around the curious faces, Nati explained, “They all want to see you - you’re the reason they came. They’re all here because of the stories, what do they call them? The _Lok’vadnod_.”

The name was familiar to Thalia. She had heard Ulag mention it when they were children, and he had even shared some of his _Lok’vadnod_ with her: the heroes’ stories of his own clan. 

The Draenei went on, indicating the orc chief where he stood in conversation with Torug. “There stands Ulag, Chief of Ten Tribes. They joined his cause to help rescue his beloved.” Thalia blushed at the reference. 

“Some are here out of love for him, some because they believe in his quest, some-” Nati indicated a band of orcs dragging sacks of gold and shrugged. “Because they like loot.” She smiled indulgently. “They’ll be telling tales of him for years to come, how he united ten clans and drove back an invasion from a hell-dimension in the Portal War - his legend is in the making now, here, today. Anyone who rides with him will be part of that legend. There were many who jumped at the chance. As did I.” The mage glanced down, pensive of a sudden. “The only hardship is being away from my son.”

Thalia tensed as a wave of loss swept through her, but the mage couldn’t have known her pain, and she empathised with any mother parted from her child. “Where is he?”

“With Torug’s folks. I came down by zeppelin a few days back when he sent word they’d found Orin’s home.”

Thalia pieced the information together; the mage was Torug’s mate. She had never seen a half-orc, half draenei child before, and was filled with a sudden curiosity. If she couldn’t be with her own son, she might find solace through hearing about another’s. Nati talked enthusiastically about her boy, her descriptions filled with motherly embellishments, and the woman could not help but smile.

“How old?”

“A little over nine months.” A sudden pain lanced through Thalia’s chest that had nothing to do with any physical malady. He would be about the same age as her son. She struggled to keep a grip on her emotions but the pain was raw. Nati reached for her in concern. “Are you hurt?”

“No-” Thalia warred with herself, and lost. Within moments, she found herself telling the Draenei about Ulag’s son. The need to share the burden, so long carried alone, was too much. She left out any mention of the psychological torment Orin had inflicted, giving the mage only the key details, and ending when the hooded priest had vanished into the shadows.

Nati listened with a fellow mother’s implicit understanding, and gripped the woman’s hand. “We’ll do all we can. I tried a locator spell to find you long ago, but some dark magic prevented me. I am stronger now, and will try again.”

A commotion over to her left commanded Thalia’s attention then. It was Ulag. There was something magnetic about his voice: when he spoke, everyone listened. He was sending out scouts to search for Orin. The orc chief’s voice was raised now and was emphasising a point: Orin was to be brought back alive. Alive and unharmed. Thalia nodded her approval. She had no doubt they would find him, then it was only a matter of time until he led them to their son - unless Nati found him first, in which case there would be nothing to keep Orin safe from Ulag’s vengeance. Thalia felt a little shudder of delight at that.

Ghorza hailed her then, emerging from the mammoth tusks supporting her hide tent with a bundle of cloth in her hands. “Thalia! Good to see you.” She grinned. “Ulag said you might need some -” she broke off a the sight of Thalia’s dress and her face twisted in distaste. “Fresh clothes.” 

Nati took her leave then and Thalia stood stiffly, taking the bundle from Ghorza without a word. She recalled Ulag’s comment that this orcess had braided his hair and she had already been wondering what other services she might have performed. Orin’s influence was insidious. There was not a day that had gone past since he had absconded with her that he had not taunted her about Ulag’s likely activities in her absence. Thalia scowled at the blithely grinning orc chieftess. She was prepared to fight for him if necessary.

Ghorza chattered away for a few moments more, pointing out the location of Ulag’s tent, passing comment on the success of their raid, but her words trailed off as she caught on to the woman’s belligerent bearing. She drew herself erect and stepped forward until she was toe to toe with Thalia. “I see your look, _Kazum_ , and I know what’s in your scent. You’re spoiling for a fight for him.”

Thalia readied herself. She had no weapons on her, but she would make do with fists and feet if that was what it took. One didn’t become a chief without proving oneself physically strong, and Ghorza was female - the only female chief Thalia had ever heard of - which meant she must be formidable. But she had felled larger creatures than Ghorza in her younger days, and she was leaner and tougher now than she had been back then. Revenge might be a powerful motivator, but it was nowhere near as strong as the almost irrational possessiveness she felt for Ulag. Ghorza forestalled her with a further admission, her false aggression melting to amusement.

“And I pity anyone who tries to come between you. Much as I would relish the opportunity to go one on one with you, that orc…” she broke off and laughed. “Has eyes for no-one but you. Believe me. I’ve seen them try.”

Thalia looked over to where Ulag and Torug were deep in conversation, the latter’s features registering shock at Ulag’s news. She turned her attention back to Ghorza and took her at her word. There was something innately likeable about the young girl-chief and her words had a ring of truth. Taking her by surprise, the orc grabbed her in a friendly hug and murmured in her ear, “Besides, I like the sheath, not the sword.”

With that, she took her leave, and Thalia walked away with bemusement that slowly changed to understanding. She shot Ghorza a grin of thanks over her shoulder and was rewarded with a wink.

Thalia entered Ulag’s tent feeling decidedly lighter of spirit than she had in what felt like centuries. She finally had the support of friends again and she was no longer alone in vindictive company. Already a search was underway to locate her scheming husband, a powerful mage would work her magic to try to find her son, and she had a pretty strong reassurance that all Orin’s taunts about Ulag had been so much hot air. Best of all, she would - unless she had grossly misjudged the situation - get to spend the night in Ulag’s warm embrace, a boon she had craved with every fibre of her being for eighteen long months.

It was therefore a comparatively relaxed Thalia who laid out the clothing Ghorza had given her on one of the tables in Ulag’s tent, next to his bed. It consisted of a pair of dark red leather leggings, black boots, a scarlet shirt and a black leather lace-up tunic that would fall to mid thigh in a flared and flattering cut. There were no sigils on any of the items, but Thalia could not help but be reminded of Ulag’s War Wolves banner when she looked at the colours. As she stared, she noted some reports on the table beneath the clothes, and pulled one out just as Ulag walked in.

She turned from greeting the orc to re-reading the snippet of text she had half absorbed. “This is about Dinas Hir.”

Ulag nodded and crossed to the table, taking the paper from her. He volunteered no further information until Thalia asked, “What happened to my city, my people? Orin murdered Drinn before he left and I have no idea what’s happened to them since.” 

Ulag fixed her with a calculating stare. “I installed a general and a small company there to … keep the peace.”

Thalia rounded on him, blood boiling with anger and indignation. “You _occupied_ my city? You arsehole!”

She thumped him a few times, experimentally, then gave into her anger and beat her fists against his chest. Ulag bore it stoically, respectfully hiding any amusement he might have felt at her impotent attempts to harm him. When she realised her attack was having absolutely no effect, Thalia broke off and stood back to scowl at him. 

Ulag glanced down at the parchment, then said, “In your absence, _Lady Protector_ , there was nearly a civil war. That boy you’re holding the city for, what’s his name-?”

“Sacha.”

“Sacha. I’ve put him into protective custody and I have restored order. I’ve also made a few improvements.”

Thalia spluttered, fuming and indignant, until Ulag handed the paper back to her. She read through it, making small noises of concession as she filtered through the contents. His understanding of the fragile political situation she had been struggling to maintain was acute. She supposed she should have expected that: he could not have united so many fractious peoples with opposing agendas without understanding of what they all wanted, what drove them all, and what cultural undercurrents influenced their actions. Thalia hated to admit it, but without even being present in the city, Ulag had done a better job than she had at keeping order. Then again, he was not trying to accomplish that alone; he had any number of generals and loyal advisors to support and enforce his wishes.

It struck her again that the report was written not in Orcish, but in Common. This orc hid nothing from the world; there was no deception in him, no underhandedness. As her late mother would have said, he wore his heart on his sleeve. Even if he never wore sleeves. 

Declining to comment further on his glowing success given that his face was twisted into a smug, expectant grin, she asked, “And what about Gresta?”

“That… needed more of a heavy hand. I had to send in a whole battalion.” He paused, considering his words. “It’s under my flag now.”

Thalia dropped the paper back to the table. “Another two capitals to add to Ulag the Conqueror’s growing list.” She could not keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“You know the path I walk, Thalia. I’ve never tried to hide that from you.” 

“But where does it end, Ulag? When you’ve conquered all of Kalimdor? Or Pandaria? Or when Azeroth itself is at your feet?”

“No.” Ulag stepped forward, took her hand and raised it to his lips. “When it’s at yours.” 

He pressed a warm kiss against her skin and for a moment, Thalia lost the power of speech. Again, this creature who would bring the world to heel was demonstrating that he wanted only to share his victories with her, and it stirred something in her that was both wild and untamed, rekindling old desires she had suppressed and thought long lost to her. 

Releasing her hand, he went on, “I’ve seen you on the field. You handle yourself as well as any orc - well, almost.” Thalia chuckled at his last-minute caveat. His next words stole her mirth.

“I want you at my side,” he asserted. “In battle, here in the command tent, and-” His eyes traced the outline of her form, taking his time and lingering over certain areas, and when they returned to meet hers, embers smouldered in his gaze. “In my bed.”

Thalia’s heart sped to a canter. There was a huge difference between the sterile visions of Ulag with which she had indulged herself over the long months apart, and actually standing in his presence. The light from a brazier threw his face into soft relief and hid half of it in shadow, and where the flame touched him, metal and tusk-bone shone, and his green skin took on a golden hue. He looked like a statue carved from living bronze, raised in honour of some warrior demi-god of legend, and she was blisteringly aware of him in every other sense too; her skin was scorched by his heat, her ears twitched to the low hum of his breathing, and his earthy, masculine scent flooded her nostrils. She knew from experience he would be fully aware of the effect his mere presence was having on her, and it was already beginning to show. 

“ _Shun'osh ash'lodar_.” The words rumbled through her core, their innate potency not lost on her, but her grasp of Orcish was wanting.

Ulag closed with her, translating the phrase. “Two hearts, one beat.”

Thalia sucked in a breath as his hands found purchase on a shoulder, a hip, and the heat from his form rushed in to engulf her. A rough-skinned thumb slid under the neck of her dress at her collar-bone, massaging the skin beneath in slow circles. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against her ear. 

“ _Shun'osh ash'lodar._ ”

The dress was sliding from her shoulder now, slowly, gently, baring her skin to the night air, and his hand moved to caress the exposed surface with a feathery touch. Thalia felt frustration and resentment build in her in equal measures. Orin’s taunts echoed in her head: that Ulag would never come for her, or that he had never really loved her. More than anything, she needed him to prove those words false, here and now, to obliterate them from her memory in a way that only he could. Thalia batted Ulag’s hand away, cringing a little at his look of bemused rejection.

She spoke through gritted teeth. “I have been waiting eighteen months to be reunited with my chieftain, with my _warrior orc_.” Ulag raised his arms, palms up from his sides in a little shrug that conveyed an implicit message: _he was here. What more did she want_? Thalia enlightened him. 

“The orc I have been waiting for takes what he wants and claims what is his.”

Ulag’s face darkened and a tension coiled through his frame. “Beware what your words rouse in me, woman.”

“He doesn’t act like a virgin _whelp_ getting his first taste of skirt.”

The orc remained silent, face half in shade, watching her intently, but the air between was rife with the pent-up energies of eighteen long months of abstinence, and resentment for her taunts.

“So he’ll bring the world to heel, tear down hell portals and track down his enemies half a continent away, but he’s too much of a _skraefa_ to show the woman he says he loves how he truly feels?”

Thalia wondered if she’d pushed him too far with that. It was one of the few words she remembered from Ulag’s abortive attempts at teaching her Orcish as as child. It meant ‘coward’, and there was little more guaranteed to needle at the proud orc chieftain than to call his bravery or honour into question.

A glance back at Ulag showed his head was lowered, and his broad lips curled into a snarl around his tusks. If she had overstepped the mark, it was too late to go back now, so she forged ahead, heedless of the consequences.

“Take me,” she commanded.

Ulag shook his head as though resisting his impulses. 

“ _Claim me._ ” 

His eyes shot up and he glared at her from under a lowered brow. Thalia was suddenly, acutely aware that she was alone in a confined space with three hundred pounds of destructive, horny muscle, and she’d just taunted him to the point of fury. She swallowed hard.

It was like watching a volcano erupt. Hidden heat, too long denied and suppressed surged up with lightning at its core, bringing molten lava to Ulag’s amber eyes. He grasped the neck of her dress in both hands and tore it asunder, sending strips of fabric flying in all directions. Her undergarments met a like fate, and the sound of the tearing silk was like a balm to Thalia’s troubled mind. It was one of the last physical vestiges of Orin’s presence in her life, and for her it symbolised freedom from the man’s mental strictures and the yoke of his oppression.

Her relief did not last long. Ulag spun her around and pushed her onto all fours on the bed, throwing a huge arm around her waist and yanking her back until she was wedged against his hip. He was still fully clothed, and the metal belt at his waist bit cold against her skin.

“ _Coward_ , am I?” Thalia could barely make out the words. He growled through clenched jaws, voice harsh with passion. 

It happened so fast she didn’t even feel the air move. His hand landed square against her exposed buttock with a resounding smack that stole her breath, and just as the realisation hit her, so did Ulag, twice more, bringing a sting and a tingle that melded together until pleasure and pain were almost inseparable. Thalia juddered forward from each impact, biting her lip as the third landed, and drawing a little blood.

“Virgin - fucking - _whelp_?” Each word was accompanied by another harsh, stinging slap until Thalia drooped in his arms, skin smarting, loins on fire. He was going to make her pay for each insult, and the thought brought a flush of excitement to her cheeks.

He dropped her then and Thalia lay shuddering and panting against the bed covers, whistling out her breath and licking the small trickle of blood from her lip. Behind her, she heard rustling, clinking noises as Ulag presumably shucked his armour and clothing. She was about to turn to see for herself when his weight pressed her into the bed, the full length of his body laid out against hers, pinning, squeezing, compressing. She pushed her palm against the soft furs to try to raise herself or turn, whichever was possible, but her attempt was met with such crushing retaliatory force that she stopped, concerned. Her position was half way between lying on her side and lying on her front, and the weight of the orc behind her was keeping her securely in place. An arm pushed beneath her, curling around her chest until the enormous hand slipped under her chin, her entire head almost fitting within the curl of his massive fingers. The other hand caught the back of her knee and yanked it up to rest against the bed, followed swiftly by a hot, hairy thigh that kept her leg in place and her sex exposed to him. 

Ulag shifted his hips, fumbling against her backside, then abruptly, his manhood pressed against her from behind and slipped all the way between her slick thighs to protrude almost obscenely from the front. Thalia glanced down as best she could with Ulag’s hand beneath her chin and twitched in surprise. Several inches of Ulag’s manhood had erupted from between her legs, and metal gleamed at its tip. Had it always been so long? So thick? It pulsed between her legs as though with a life of its own and the ridges of veins were rough against her outer lips. The metal was new, but Ulag had so much steel and bone piercing his flesh that it was perhaps more surprising that he had not adorned his cock until now.

Increasing pressure from his hand under her chin forced her to turn her head to look at him over her shoulder. Holding her gaze, Ulag took her breast in one hand and dragged his rough palm across it, following it with his knuckles, causing rippling spikes of pleasure to radiate out from the sensitive nerves. Thalia sucked in a ragged breath, struggling a little with the roughness of his play, but she would have it no other way. Ulag began to move his hips now, each pull and thrust dragging his engorged cock against her sodden womanhood, and at the nadir of every movement, the metal embellishment rubbed cold and smooth against her clit, sending strong, unfamiliar sparks of excitement through her. His eyes were drawn then to her split lip, beaded with crimson. As though pulled in by some magnetism, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers while his tongue laved against the cut, causing an instant sting in the broken flesh. Sealing his mouth against hers, his tongue invaded her, and it struck Thalia then that the dexterous, wet muscle was about the length and breadth of her hand. It filled her momentarily, overwhelming her with the taste of him, ale and spice, then too soon it was gone again. When he drew back, Thalia felt an inexplicable flash of excitement at the sight of her blood on his lips.   
  
The orc moved his hips in a slow rhythm, each gliding thrust bringing new thrills as his pierced length caused a slippery friction against her slit. Thalia gasped and bucked in his arms, pushing her buttocks back against him, urging him silently to complete their reunion. Ulag’s hand squeezed her throat while the fingers of his other hand tightened in a steady pinch against her nipple, pulling it out and away from her body to discourage further movement. He spoke right against her ear.  
  
“You want me to claim you - do you have any inkling of what that means?”   
  
Thalia could barely speak. “ _Sh-shun_ \- uhnh.”

“What?” he demanded. Ulag moved his head closer, fanning hot breath across her cheek. She repeated the phrase, dispersed over several broken breaths as his hips continued their slow sawing motion. “ _Shun -'osh- ash-'lodar_ …”  
  
Ulag loosed a growl. “You know the words, but you have no idea of their meaning. Not yet. But you will.” Thalia was writhing like a sidewinder in his arms now, maddened by his touch, and craving even more of his attention. 

“You want me to show you how I _feel_?” Thalia got the distinct impression he was referring to more than just his feelings for her. Holding her gaze, he tilted his pelvis and he pressed his tip against her entrance, the combination of heat and cold at its end a thrilling novelty. Thalia felt a flush rising to her cheeks as his hard length worked its way inside her. There was no give in it, no trace of flexibility, as though the member itself was made of wood or steel, and the pulsing veins were raised into hard ridges that scoured her innards as he pushed into her. She did not recall struggling with his size before, but whether it was their position, or the fact that she’d had nothing between her legs in eighteen months, he was definitely pushing her limits tonight. Every slow penetrative movement was taxing her, stretching her, rasping against her inner walls until she took him to the hilt. He left her no time to acclimate, withdrawing almost instantly and stuffing himself back into her mercilessly. From this angle, with her hips held against his and her back arched back towards him where he held her head, the metal bead at the end ground right against her sweet spot on both entry and exit. 

Keeping up a steady but remorseless rhythm with his hips, Ulag pulled her chin down towards the the side, forced his head into the gap between her jaw and her shoulder, and ran his tongue along the length of her neck, eliciting a drawn-out shudder and a tiny cry of desire. Thalia felt him breathe against her skin, close enough that tusk and metal brushed against the vulnerable area. After scenting around the nape of her neck as though choosing his spot, Ulag parted his tusked jaws and sank his teeth into the soft skin. Thalia bucked and cried out as his bite intensified every sensation she was experiencing. He held her like that, teeth buried in her neck, one hand on her throat, the other roughly toying with her breast while he fucked her senseless. Thalia did not last long. The combined stimulation of teeth, hands and cock catapulted her to a new height from which, she quickly realised, she could not easily descend. He had had this effect on her once before, perhaps through the fortuitous combination of physical and mental stimuli that he alone could provide, but the reasons were inconsequential. The plain fact of the matter was that her body was jolting in a devastating orgasm that simply wouldn’t subside, and her vocal reactions reached an alarmed state as she attempted to alert him to that fact.

After her third entreaty for mercy, Ulag appeared to relent. He withdrew fully, but Thalia barely had time to take in a few hitching, relieved breaths before he hauled her leg out to the side and rolled her onto her back. She took in the sight of him in one flash impression. The orc supported himself above her on arms that were laden with muscle and crawling with veins. His ripped torso, shining with a thin film of sweat rose from between her thighs, and below it stood his engorged cock, wet and gleaming with her juice and nowhere near done. His part-shaved head lent him a savage look, and where a couple of dreads had slipped forwards over his shoulder, heavy metal beads clanked. His pointed ears hung heavy with shining silver, and the rings at his nose and tusks gleamed in the light of the brazier. Thalia finally met his gaze and it sent a frisson of mixed delight and terror through her. His eyes were filled with a remorseless lust, evidence of his demonic blood, and she was suddenly, keenly aware that she had forced this circumstance into being. 

Ulag caught her attention then as he began to speak in the low, guttural language of his people. As he did so, he crawled over her, taking and pinning first one wrist, then the other beneath his hands, securing them beneath his immense weight. Thalia’s grasp of the language was not good, but she was able to make out some of the words. Some were profanities she had heard orc soldiers utter, and she made out one that might have been ‘challenge’, and another that might have been ‘life’. The rest were lost on her, but the entire speech was delivered in such a way that she felt certain whatever he was talking about was utterly filthy. As he continued to growl his smut into her ear, Ulag entered her again, his passage made easier now that her body had already yielded once to his swollen cock. The ecstasy surged again in seconds, and when her lover’s thrusts quickly resumed their former pace, Thalia registered another three intense climaxes in swift succession. With her hands restrained, she could not do the things she yearned to do: to reach out and touch his hot, green skin, or guide or encourage his movements, but all considerations soon became immaterial. Ulag bore down on her, bringing his forehead to rest on hers, covered in a sheen of sweat that mingled with her own, while his hips pounded against hers and his heavy balls thudded against her ass. 

In that moment, Thalia saw her potential future in his eyes: days of conquest, nights of passion, family, friends, love, laughter, adventure, excitement, and all she had to do was accept him for who he was, for the path he had chosen. Their faces were a hand's breadth apart, short, harsh breaths coming in unison, their bodies moving in complete harmony, eyes fixed on each other as though seeing into each other’s souls in that one finite moment. 

“ _Shun'osh_ ,” breathed the orc, keeping up his relentless assault on her womanhood. 

“ _Ash'lodar_ ,” Thalia responded. There was nothing in all of Azeroth that could have prevented her answer.

It was enough. Ulag roared long and loud, arcing his back as though to bury himself in his lover. His seed, held back for months on end erupted like a geyser and overflowed over bed and body in hot, gushing jets. Ulag kept pumping while Thalia thrashed around in ecstasy below him, and it although neither knew it, it would be quite some time before the flow was exhausted.

Outside in the firelight, Ulag’s allies clinked tankards and shared amused grins as two voices joined in release, the low, victorious roaring of the orc and the high, satisfied cry of his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The orcish phrase I used here for 'two hearts one beat' was cobbled together using the WoW Orcish primer. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a word for ‘beat’, so I’ve used the word for ‘drum’, but I’m pretty sure it was a LoTR Orcish translation rather than a WoW one. It still sounds reasonably orcish I think. ;)
> 
> Also a bit of a note about my choice of spelling. I write in UK English (because that’s my mother tongue), but I still decided to use the US spelling of ‘ass’ at one point in this chapter, just because it felt a bit more natural in the circumstance.


	15. A Moment's Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little rest and relaxation for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had plans to advance the story quite a lot in this chapter, but the entire cast appears to have mutineered. They’ve apparently all decided they’ve had quite enough angst and just want to relax and muck around for a bit. 
> 
> This one’s nothing to do with me - I give up. *throws hands in air and wanders off*

Ulag drew in long, slow breaths as the red mist faded from his vision. It was rare that he gave into his more primal desires and he struggled to reassert his more intelligent, thinking side over the base demonic lusts that he had allowed to the fore. When his sight cleared, Thalia lay splayed beneath him, hair damp, breath coming fast through parted lips, eyes shut. Her legs still had his waist in a death-grip, her heels wedged against his buttocks as though to prevent any attempt at escape, and her hands were twitching where his own still held her wrists. He released them, using one arm to hold his weight off her, and the other to run a hand appreciatively along her flank, stopping when he reached her bottom, and sliding his hand beneath it to give it a light squeeze. 

The orc did not ask after her wellbeing. It would be an insult to his mate, an insinuation that she might have been unable to take what he had to give her, the very lusts she herself had incited in him. Nonetheless, he ran his hand over the bite mark at her shoulder, testing its tenderness. Thalia groaned in residual passion at his touch and rolled her hips beneath him, clenching her legs around his waist and tugging on his buttocks with her heels. He chuckled to himself. She was fine, but she was going to have to wait if she wanted more of him, a few minutes at the very least.

He examined her shoulder. It would bruise, and she would bear the mark of his affection for several days, but the skin was not broken and the joint appeared to move normally. He lifted the claw pendant where it lay tangled at the side of her neck and brought it back to the centre of her chest, tracing his fingers over it and smoothing it in place. His hand drew a path down between her breasts and over her stomach, and his lips followed suit as he withdrew reluctantly from her tight depths. As he reached her lower belly, he paused, noting a broad scar he had not seen before. His lover stiffened as he reached it, and an inquisitive glance at her face gave him his answer.

Thalia tried and failed to find the words she needed, eventually shaking her head and saying, “He’ll be the only one.”

Ulag put together what she had already told him about the birth with her rather cryptic words, and surmised there had been complications. He had seen mothers bring orc children into the world, often far from a healer or any magic to help them. He had also seen crude surgery used to speed a newborn’s passage or to save mother and child when difficulties arose. He also knew that sometimes such surgery could render a female barren. It did not matter to him that Thalia could bear him no further offspring, only that she had fought a battle with Death that would have slain a lesser woman, and she had emerged victorious, saving their child in the process. Ulag inclined his head in a show of deference and kissed the scar.

“We _will_ find him.”

Some time later, Ulag returned to the rear area of the command tent which doubled as his private quarters to find Thalia thumbing through the book she had pilfered from Orin’s villa. She lay on her belly in the furs, skin agleam in the firelight, wearing nothing but the claw pendant he had given her, and the mark of his claim. Ulag decided he could spend every night for the rest of his life looking at the sight and never get tired of it. A further glance showed she had devoured the platter of meats and cheese he had brought her and she made a disappointed noise as her hand reached for the next morsel, only to find the plate empty.

“Where are you putting it all?” he asked with a shake of his head. While his own needs were considerable, Thalia was less than half his size, and yet she appeared to have an appetite to match his own this evening, in more ways than one. 

Thalia cocked a brow at him. “I need my strength if I’m going to tangle with you again.”

That sounded promising. Ulag raised his hands in open invitation, and his mate gave him a mock-annoyed glare. The orc chuckled and filled a couple of tankards for them, setting one down on the floor for her and draining the other in a single draught. The night was young. “Find anything useful?”

“Mostly Orin writing about how wonderful he is. And how much he wants Trent.”

“Why would he want someone who looked just like him?” asked the orc in confusion.

Thalia took a sip from her tankard and propped it back on the ground next to the bed. “Would it surprise you if he got off on the thought of making love to himself?”

Ulag conceded the point in Orin’s case, but nevertheless found the concept very strange. He relished the differences between himself and Thalia, which in his eyes amounted to complementary strengths that made the whole greater than the sum of its parts. He saw the same in Torug and Nati, and in Ghorza and her Tauren girlfriend. Those very dissimilarities made everything so much more interesting, and were half the reason he had a roving foot. Ulag wanted to see all the world had to offer in all its multitudinous variety and shining glory, and in time, to make it all his.

“There are some odd symbols here that I don’t recognise,” observed Thalia.

Ulag perched beside his lover on the edge of the bed, tracing his fingers around the curves of her buttocks while she read, one still a little pink from his earlier retribution. 

“Most of this is just a dull, routine recording of events though,” said Thalia, flipping through the pages. “This entry is about buying the villa, this one-” Thalia broke off as Ulag slipped his hand off the curve of her buttock and onto the inside of her thigh. She shot him an annoyed glare. “I’m trying to concentrate!”

Ulag tilted his head back and stared gravely at her. “You pledged yourself to me this night,” he began, moving around beside her on the bed. “There are consequences to what you have done, woman.” 

At Thalia’s look of consternation, he lunged forward without warning and sank his teeth lightly into a pert butt-cheek, eliciting a surprised squeal. “So _this_ is mine…” He moved instantly across to the other and gave it the same treatment. “-and _this_ is mine…” He began to land mock-bites anywhere that took his fancy, growling, “-and _this_ … and _this_ -” until Thalia was batting frantically at him, and laughing and shrieking fit to burst. Ulag rolled her onto her back and caged her with his limbs, wondering if any sight could be quite so good for the soul. Their recent association had been fraught with troubles, and seeing her lying beneath him with her face lit by laughter reminded him of their first time together under a wild summer sky, the day when he began to suspect he might love her. The call of their allegiances had, of necessity separated them at that time, and he recalled vividly the moment when Blackmaw had alerted him to the approach of his Orc brethren, and his hurried farewell to Thalia to ensure her safety. Sending her away was one of the hardest things Ulag had ever done, but now he understood the time had not yet been right, and that destiny had its own plans for them, as some unseen force continued to throw them together. One thing was for certain in the orc chief’s mind: he'd be damned to hell before he'd let her go now. 

“You continue to surprise me, Ulag Chief of Ten Tribes,” said Thalia, her warm fingers tracing along the side of his face. 

He turned his head to nip at her hand and grinned. “Good.” She didn’t need to know yet that there were now fifteen tribes under his banner. It might spoil the mood. Thalia moved sensually beneath him, her other hand trailing over his chest and abdomen, exploring him by touch. Her scent was redolent with arousal again and Ulag was fast coming to realise he was utterly powerless against it. He had heard his elders talk about the scent of a true mate drawing an orc from miles away, but he had never put much stock in those stories. True, the smell of a female in heat was a strong trigger for action, and he’d fallen prey to it many times over the course of his adult life, but this one galvanised him like no other. It was rife with sexual imperatives that almost stole his reason, and made him want to do all manner of odd things for her. He wanted to wrap her in soft furs on a cold night, sport with her in a mountain stream, throw the bloody kill of a wild boar at her feet and lay waste to any who would harm her. 

Once he’d finished fucking her, of course.

The very thought caused a sudden rush of heat in his loins and he lowered his head to kiss around the outside of her aereolas, nibbling and tonguing her, but shying away from the sensitive tips.

“Careful,” warned Thalia. “I'll have you again if you don’t stop that.”  
  
Ulag loosed a spluttering laugh. “ _You_ 'll have _me_?”  
  
Thalia grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don't much care who does the _having_ part.”   
  
Ulag decided he didn't either, but the words came to his lips unbidden. “Fine, I accept your challenge.”

Thalia quirked a brow. 

“Come on and take me, if you think you can, _woman_.”

He was delighted at the rush of fire in her eyes as she rose to his bait. He had already seen how much his use of that word in that tone needled her, and he stored it away for future use. He may have already taken his revenge against her for calling him a coward, but it still stung. As did her butt in all probability. He offered little resistance for a while, letting her move him when he could easily have prevented it. Still, Ulag had to admit that some of the holds and leverage she used would actually have been quite effective had he not outweighed and out-muscled her several times over. Perhaps predictably, she resorted to foul play fairly quickly, jabbing him in the ribs when he tried to hold her down again, and when she located his most ticklish spot low on his hip near his groin, Ulag yelped aloud and twisted away. 

“HA! Ulag _Chief of Ten Tribes_ indeed,” she mocked him as she gained the upper hand and shoved him partly onto his back. “You cannot hope to win against me!” She had buried her head at his neck now and was worrying at his throat with her blunt little teeth and growling like a wolf pup. Ulag would have been happy to let her continue, had she not found quite such a ticklish spot, and had he not been wracked with laughter at her antics. He wrestled her straining form off him and down onto the furs, alternately pinning her limbs and assaulting anything he could reach with play-bites until her breath was coming in strangled, high-pitched gasps. He was almost as surprised as she was when he slipped inside her. He hadn’t even intended to do it - not yet - but the combination of their proximity, her heat, their struggle and her laughter had made it inevitable, and Ulag’s actions had very little to do with conscious thought. 

Thalia stiffened beneath him, her smiles transmuting to a glazed look of pure lust. 

“… Victory is mine,” breathed Ulag.

“You sure about that?” she asked, claiming his body with her legs again.

There were many experiences Ulag counted among his favourites: the first taste of beer with comrades-in-arms at the end of a long day’s fighting, the first hot spray of blood when his axe found purchase in enemy flesh, but the feel of Thalia’s womanhood, hot, wet and tight on his aching length was enough to make him willing to forego all the rest. So yes, he counted this as a victory, and always would when his mate yielded her flesh to his weapon. A glance at Thalia’s face showed she didn't seem particularly perturbed about being conquered either. Ulag growled softly under his breath as he began to rock against her, the need welling up in him as though he had not just blown an explosive load not half an hour previously. As his chest moved against hers, he was reminded of a pair of silver, sprung rings that still nestled in the pouch at his belt, discarded on the floor. There were still so many possibilities to explore; the night was just not going to be long enough.

When they eventually emerged from Ulag’s tent the following afternoon, it was to a round of applause, whistles and amused comments. The area outside the command tent was communal, and the orc’s closest companions tended to gather there to eat, plan and socialise. 

“Fucking hell,” Torug swore with exaggerated surprise. “Is the bed on fire?”

“Nah, smashed to smithereens, I reckon,” grinned Ghorza.

“I wore him out,” said Thalia with a wink, moving to the firepit and grabbing some of the leftovers, an assertion which caused an immediate round of ridicule from Ulag’s male companions. Ulag set his hands on his hips and sighed in resignation. He should have known she’d challenge him just as much here as she had in his bed.

Nati emerged from Torug’s tent just then and gave her companion a playful slap on the behind. “Ah, let them be. They’ve eighteen months to make up for.”

Torug tackled her as she attempted to pass him and grabbed her in a move that was half-hug, half-tickle. “So what’s your excuse then?”

Nati squealed and attempted to recover the bits that Torug was ‘inadvertently’ uncovering, eventually freeing herself and tugging her clothing back into some semblance of order. She shrugged. “I just like them big and brainless.”

Thalia joined Ghorza in laughing aloud as Torug took off in hot pursuit of his mate, who was even now taunting him with a raised middle finger from the far side of the little gathering of tents. 

“Whatever you two have, I think it’s catching,” laughed the young chieftess.

Ulag settled himself in his customary spot on the large log outside his tent doorway, and set to sharpening his axe. As he ran the whetstone over the dulled edge, he watched Thalia engage in animated conversation with Ghorza, noting with a swell of pride that her clothes matched the colours of his banner, although whether that was intentional or not, the orc chief had no clue. He caught his breath as he noted Ghorza appeared to be pulling Thalia’s hair and was just about to leap to his feet and demand to know what was going on when he realised the chieftess was simulating a mohawk on his beloved, and seconds later the two dissolved into laughter. Ulag gave a wry grin and went back to his task. The rational part of his brain knew that Thalia was more than capable of taking care of herself, and had the threat been real, it was likely that she would have been furious had he intervened. The part of him that was driven by instinct however had a tendency to leap to the defensive at the slightest hint of trouble. He was going to have to watch that.

Nati returned then, batting off Torug’s teasing advances as they walked, and sat down next to Thalia. Ulag watched as his mate showed Torug’s the symbols she had found in Orin’s book and the mage took it and studied it intently.

The orc chief nodded to himself as he took in the scene. After a long and turbulent period, things were starting to fall into place and he felt as though his life's plan was almost complete. He had his mate, he had a strong circle of close friends, and a growing horde of his own with which to ride out and conquer the world. All he had to do now was find his son and obliterate Orin from existence. While disturbed by the knowledge that the child was in the hands of some unknown malefactor, he was simultaneously elated that there was a small life out there somewhere that was part him, part Thalia. He couldn’t imagine a being more perfect.

Ulag itched to be underway but as yet, they had no leads. The scouts had come back with no indication of Orin’s whereabouts, or even what route he had taken on departure from the villa. Not one of the wolves had caught his scent, and none of the trails leading away from the valley had been recently used. It followed then that the man was using some sort of magic to cover his tracks. Ulag pondered again on what Thalia had told him about the robed priest: she did not know to what race he belonged, only that he had a foul voice and a taloned hand. It was not much to go on. Still, when Ulag put his mind to something, not all the demons in ten hells could stop him. Orin might be elusive, but against the tenacity of the chief of chiefs, he stood no chance. The man had no idea what lengths Ulag would go to to save and protect those dearest to him, and the painful death he plotted for Orin was getting more colourful by the second.

Some hour or so later, Torug and Nati came out from their tent, although Ulag had not noticed them taking their leave. Nati was hurriedly pulling down her dress and her flushed face was also suffused with a sense of urgency. Torug managed to slip himself back into his trousers just before he emerged.

“Ulag!” she called, hurrying across to him. “I think I know where they are!”

“She finally found your balls, Torug?” Ulag’s taunt sent Ghorza into near hysterics.

“When you’ve quite finished,” admonished the mage. “You know how sometimes ideas can come to you when your mind is occupied with really mundane things?”

Torug’s tusked jaw dropped open in indignation.

“Torug does have his uses.” 

The look on Torug’s face made it abundantly clear that Nati would be paying for that remark later.

Nati ignored her mate's glares and went on, “There was a necromancer who helped close the Portal. He amplified all the other magicks, including mine. When he did that, I had a flash of insight into who - and what - he was. Thalia all but described him to me yesterday, and I’ve been trying to make the association ever since.” 

Nati spoke breathlessly, excitement rising. “He’s been covering his tracks, throwing me off the trail when I try to use location spells to find Orin or your son. But the symbols in this book are those Orin used to find and summon him. When he materialised at the Portal, this symbol-” She pointed to an odd combination of lines and whorls on one of the pages of Orin’s book, “-marked his arrival.”

“Each symbol represents a different location. It’ll take some time to decipher them and pin them down, but-” She held the book before her as though it were a shield, glancing around the group as she made her assertion. “We _can_ find him.”

“Do it.” The command came from Thalia before Ulag could open his mouth. He wondered for a moment whether he would need to reinforce the order, but Nati was already inclining her head in agreement and hurrying off to prepare her magicks. Ulag allowed himself a small smile at his mate’s impulsiveness. She had already gained in influence among those closest to him, demonstrated by her burgeoning friendship with Ghorza and her innate rapport with Nati. He already knew Torug thought highly of her. While others might have been irked at being undermined, Ulag welcomed her assertiveness. It was a clear sign that she would carve herself a niche amongst his close-knit companions, and from there amongst his wider following, all of which was key to his long-term goal of having her rule all of Azeroth at his side. 


	16. Ulag's Choice

Blood sprayed up the grey stone wall in a wet, scarlet fan-shape, loosed by Thalia’s steel. Ulag’s axe came down just to the right of it and crunched into the skull of the next man to chance his arm, slamming the unfortunate’s head down into his chest cavity. The next two to face the pair in the narrow stone corridor met no better a fate, and the two invaders soon won to the steps at the far end, their opposition temporarily exhausted. Ulag caught his breath as Thalia turned to him, eyes wild, face streaked with blood, swords dripping red. If there was a sight more guaranteed to make the chief’s heart jump in his chest and start a fire in his loins, he had not yet found it. The word _savage_ flashed in his mind and he was suddenly very keen for this day to be over so he could make that little savage his again in all the ways she loved best.

Thalia caught his sexually-charged glance and narrowed her eyes at him. “Keep your mind on the job, Orc.”

Ulag gave her his best _I’m going to eat you alive later_ grin and pushed past her, laughing inwardly at the sudden spike in her musk. She was right though. There were more important things to consider now. With Nati’s help, they had finally managed to track down Orin in his lair and the two had wasted no time in sacking it. They had in fact been so keen to find the man that they had outdistanced their friends with the help of some hippogryphs, and had gone in alone, knowing the rest of their company would not be too far behind. The three-month delay since Nati had started to decipher the symbols in Orin’s book had chafed at both of them and there was little in all the world that could have tempered their enthusiasm.

Rounding the next corner, they were met with a larger force which fared no better than the first and Ulag took down eight to Thalia’s two. As he turned to gloat, and remind her of the forfeit she would pay if his kills were more than double hers, he noted her eyes widening in alarm. She barely had time to point over his shoulder before something hit the orc chief with the force of an exploding sun and the world went black, Thalia’s scream of warning ringing in his ears.

Ulag’s nightmares had largely subsided since Thalia had been back in his arms at night. He rarely dreamed now about Orin ravishing her, and on the odd occasion he did, there was always her soft warmth to comfort him when he jolted awake and, if she woke too, to stroke and kiss the last vestiges of anxiety away. The scene that unfolded before his bleary eyes as he opened them again would likely cause him night-terrors for years to come, assuming any of them got out of it alive.

He took in the salient details in several short, sharp flashes. He lay on his side in a vaulted, windowless room with a grey floor of cracked stone. Before him stood Thalia, stripped of her armour and weapons, a black-clad figure gripping her arms from behind. There were few other guards: Ulag counted barely fifteen all told, not even enough for him to break a sweat. To Thalia’s right stood the subject of all his hatred, Orin, a look on his face somewhere between disgust and amusement. This would be over quickly. Ulag moved to get to his feet, to find his wrists constrained by metal bands, linked to chains that snaked away to huge iron rings set in the floor. They were not tight enough to prevent him from standing, however, and he gained his feet and looked down on Orin with a look that promised a messy death.

Savouring the moment, Orin nodded to his right and another black-robed figure stepped out of the shadows, hauling a rather distressed-looking half-orc child in its wake.

Thalia gave a little cry, wordless and loaded, and Ulag knew that she would have nothing but maternal instinct driving her every word and decision now. For his own part, he tried not to look, knowing it would likely cloud his own judgment too, but the existence of this tiny being had eaten at his consciousness over the last few months, and he yearned for the sight of him. A single glance told him all he needed to know. Thalia been right. He was _beautiful_ , and perfect - and in Orin’s power. Ulag raised his eyes to glare at the former lord of Gresta from under a brow heavy with thunder.

“Oh you’d love to get your hands on me, wouldn’t you, greenskin?” he laughed. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be prepared for your coming?” Orin indicated the child with a tilt of his head. Ulag surmised he had retrieved the boy to use against them when he realised they were coming for him.

”Thank you for bringing my wife back to me, by the way. I was starting to get concerned.”

He stepped towards Thalia and Ulag’s chains were suddenly under intense pressure as the Orc lunged against them. Orin started and cast an appraising glance at the metal restraints, scoffing as he saw they held firm. He took Thalia by the back of the neck and pushed her forward to stand in front of Ulag. He had not bothered to try to bind her, or threaten her with a blade. Everyone in the room knew that his leverage was a year-old half-orc child who was even now trying to make sense of what was happening.

Orin wrapped his arms around the woman from behind, pressing his cheek against hers, and sliding one hand onto her ribs beneath the curve of her breast, the other low on her belly. Ulag’s eyes blazed. 

“I am very much looking forward to tonight,” he murmured, lips touching her cheek. “To having my wife warm my bed.” Orin fixed Ulag with a salacious smirk. “She ever tell you how I fucked her, orc?”

Ulag glanced at Thalia to find her face white with fury and indignation. Her fists were clenched tightly at her side, and her jaws firmly shut. She was incandescent with rage. Much as he would have liked to smash Orin to a pulp at that moment in time, he found he would actually be willing to forego that pleasure just to see Thalia get her chance to take vengeance on this snake of a man, but he knew that neither possibility could come to fruition, not while he still had their son.

Thalia had indeed told him about the incident in question. She had also told him about the man’s abysmal showing, and while Ulag would have derived a vast amount of satisfaction from taunting Orin for never bringing Thaila to orgasm, he didn’t feel it would be particularly helpful to their current situation.

Ulag raised his head. “Yes.”

Orin deflated. He evidently hadn’t expected the level of honesty that was between them, and it was clearly stealing his thunder. 

_Good_ , thought Ulag.  
  
Orin pushed Thalia back towards the guard that had held her previously, face twisted in disgust. “I wouldn't touch her now anyway. She's contaminated by orc-filth.” He strode forward to stand before Ulag, “This isn't about my wife, it's about you and me, greenskin. It always has been. Since orcs and humans have walked this world we have been at war. And until your kind is scoured from the face of Azeroth, I won’t rest.”   
  
The man then launched into a tirade that showed the depths of his hatred for orcs and half-orcs alike, words which Ulag was utterly certain would not have left the man’s mouth had he himself not been restrained. He then went on to remind Ulag that not only had the orc chief taken his kingdom, he had also killed his lover. Ulag had to concede that at least. 

His venom apparently exhausted, Orin motioned to his right, and the guard dragged out the young half-orc from where he was hiding behind the man’s knee. The youngster’s wary glance took in Orin, Thalia, and then finally came to rest on Ulag. The young boy’s mouth fell open in wonder and his little nose twitched as he took in the unfamiliar scent.

“I’ve seen the advance of your degenerate army, greenskin, and I know of your plans for conquest,” said Orin. “Once you are dead, I plan to raise the brat myself, in the sophisticated ways of humans.” Ulag snorted. Did Orin think what he was doing now was sophisticated?

“I’ll tell him all about you,” the man went on. “I’ll tell him his father was a degenerate orc ravager, who raped his mother and abandoned him.”

Ulag noted Thalia had tensed again at this new development, and he hoped she could keep her cool a little longer. Their friends could not be far behind. If they could just keep Orin talking, they could yet turn the tables.

“He will _revile_ his father’s name.”

Ulag calmed himself as Orin’s latest taunts wormed their way under his skin. He knew he needed to buy more time. He shrugged his great shoulders, causing the chains to clink and rattle. “I’ll be dead. What does it matter to me what some half-breed get thinks of me? I’ve sown my oats in all four corners of the world. What makes you think this one’s special?”

Orin was practically fuming now and Ulag wondered what tack he might try now that he had failed to get a rise out of him by either threatening to make life difficult for his mate or his son. 

“Fine. You don’t care for their wellbeing? Then choose the one you like best.”

Ulag frowned.

“My assassins,” he indicated the men in black standing over Thalia and their son, “Will kill one of them, here and now - your last act in this world will be to decide which.”

Ulag’s glare could have incinerated stone.

“Choose one,” ordered Orin. “Or I’ll choose for you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language!” laughed the man, turning towards the half-orc child. “Close your ears boy. You shouldn’t have to hear your father swear.”

“Father?” asked the small, gruff voice. 

Ulag’s resolve nearly cracked. He saw Thalia toss her head at him out of the corner of his eye. He flicked his gaze towards her and saw her mouth the words he knew were coming. “ _Save our son._ ”

Ulag dropped his head, straining forwards against the loops of forged iron that held him. Their time had run out. His reinforcements had not arrived and he was going to have to give his answer now or let Orin decide the fates of his mate and child. 

He raised his eyed to meet Thalia’s gaze and began to mouth his reply. She might hate him for the rest of her life, but unless he responded, that might be seconds. “ _Shun'osh_..." 

Thalia’s shriek of absolute horror struck him to his core, but it brought the result he desired. As Orin turned to see what had caused her to cry out, Ulag tossed up the chains and looped them around his wrists for better purchase. Chains are only as strong as their weakest link, but those Orin had procured were forged of dark iron by master smiths: not even Ulag’s prodigious strength could break them. The stone beneath them however was riven with cracks, and though the rings had been driven into steel plates set within the ancient stone, it was not without its flaws. With a roar, Ulag tore both chains clear of their moorings, and swung one directly at Thalia’s head. Long months of sparring, planning and rutting together had endowed them with senses that were as attuned to each other as to their own thoughts. Sensing his move, Thalia hit the floor as the enormous block of stone whistled towards her on the end of the chain, and it exploded straight through the assassin’s head. 

Whirling the other block like a flail, Ulag sent the second missile directly at Orin. The man moved fast, and it only caught him a glancing blow, stunning him and flattening him to the ground. At that moment, the door smashed open and Ulag’s allies arrived, armed and ready to obliterate any remaining opposition.

Ulag grinned his welcome and turned to see Thalia sliding off the end of the other assassin’s blade, his son safe at her knees. With an inarticulate cry that was part fury part grief, Ulag closed the distance between him and the assassin in a single bound, and twisted off his head. 

As the activity in the room died down, he dropped to his knees at Thalia’s side, noting the darkness of the gouting blood with grim concern. He liked neither the location of the wound nor the copious quantities of fluids she was losing. With gentle hands, he put pressure on the cut, only then noting that his son had aped his motions and was kneeling beside them. The boy’s face was fearful but curious and his tiny pale green hands were next to his, helping, in however small a way to keep the pressure on. 

“Hold on,” he breathed to Thalia. “The healers are close.” Nati and Torug were careening into the room even as he spoke, the latter yelling commands and coordinating the end of the charge.

Thalia coughed as she tried to take a deep breath. Her teeth were red. Ulag blanched. 

“Where are the fucking healers?” he yelled over his shoulder.

Thalia shook her head dismissively and turned to their son, taking one of his small hands as she began to speak. Ulag had no idea how much so young a child could understand, but he saw there was a burning need in her to try to communicate with him. 

“This is your father. He will protect you - stay with him, always.” The boy looked from her to the orc and chewed at his lower lip where the first small tips of tusks were starting to emerge. If he understood, he gave no sign.

Grunting in pain, Thalia dropped the child’s hand. Her last words were, “His name is Kel.”

Ulag departed the chamber with Thalia’s limp form cradled in the orc’s arms, and his son at his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orin is sooooo f***ed.


	17. Epilogue

It was a story she had heard a hundred times before, and one she had told even more often than that.

It was the tale of of Darian and Mani, star-crossed lovers who, if they could but find their way back to one another, could unite a fractured kingdom, heal the last living dragon and have their happy ever after, but fate conspired against them time and again until the listener thought their cause was lost. She had never heard it told in such deep, resonant tones, and they warmed her very core like the touch of sun-drenched rock against water-chilled skin; but it was annoyingly hard to concentrate on the words. The world weighed heavy on her; her arms and legs were made of lead and her head was stuffed with glass. A burning ache in the centre of her gut was becoming more insistent and demanding that she surface and deal with it, but she was enjoying the tale and wanted to stay in the fluffy warmth of the story—world until the Happily Ever After. Grumbling aloud, Thalia opened one eye. Somewhere above her, dark red canvas lifted in a warm breeze, and a shaft of light danced on a wooden pole. It was a summer’s afternoon in a warm clime. She cursed under her breath. Darian and Mani’s story took place in a world wrapped in winter. The story world was about to fade. She forced the other eye open.

“Thalia?” came the instant inquiry, again in that rich, bass voice. 

The story had ended. Thalia scowled. She had been enjoying that. Turning her head, she picked out the blurry outlines of something big, green and concerned. A touch warmed her fingers, enveloping them in something very large and very strong. “She’s awake!”

A second blurred figure hove into view, this one bringing prodding and poking sensations that set the ache off in her belly again. Thalia slapped at the hand in irritation with arms that felt like they were made of water. “My arms don’t work,” she slurred.

There was a low chuckle, then a high, wavering voice said. “It’ll take time, Chieftain. Take heart. She has a strong will.”

“That’s an understatement,” came the rumbling response. 

Thalia wished they would both shut up so she could get back to her story, but it seemed that as with Darian and Mani, fate had other plans for her. An arm slipped behind her back and raised her to a semi-sitting position. A waterskin was pressed against her lips and she drank thirstily, shortly grabbing the skin for herself and glutting herself on the contents.

The water restored her to some extent, and the world slowly resolved into sharper detail. Thalia recognised the command tent, made out her weapons and armour on a rack a few feet away, and to her left, supporting her sat the storyteller: Ulag. Thalia’s face broke into an involuntary smile at the sight of him, whole and unharmed. Despite her groggy state, she could almost feel the relief coming off him in waves. He had been concerned for her, she intuited. But _why_? It was then only a matter of moments before the events that had preceded her loss of consciousness rose again to the forefront of her mind. Thalia sat bolt upright, folding forwards in agony a second later as the action caused a violent stabbing sensation in her stomach. _It'll take time_.

“Where's Kel?” she demanded when her breath had returned. 

“Outside with Torug and Nati, playing with their boy, Urmuk,” came the relaxed response.

Ulag’s smile faded as Thalia’s face twisted into a grimace of utter fury. Her fists came straight at him in a battery of punches until he was forced to grab them before she hurt herself. “You arsehole! Don't you ever do that again!”

Ulag’s jaw went slack. It was apparently not the reaction he had been expecting. “What…?”

“Your number one priority is to protect _him_!” Each word was punctuated with a wrench as she tried to free her hands and pummel him again. “Don’t you ever - _ever_ \- think of putting me before him again!”  
  
Understanding spread across the orc’s perturbed features. He exhaled heavily and shook his head. “I had a plan.” At her intense scowl, he added, “Was I supposed to let you die? I seem to recall someone charging through a burning dungeon in a nightgown to save my life …”   
  
Thalia vented a frustrated breath, tempered by the old memory he had just triggered. “I can take care of myself - and you don’t owe me for that, you idiot.”

Ulag was quiet, toying with her fingers, enclosing them in his and sliding his thumbs along them as though to commit the shape to memory. Thalia calmed a little at his uncharacteristically gentle touch.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“A few days,” came the hesitant response.

“Days? Let me up, I need to see him!” Thalia pushed again at the monolithic weight of her companion, who budged just about as much as a ten ton menhir.

“You need to rest,” said the orc. “You’re crotchety.”

“I’ve rested enough - get off me!” This last was in response to Ulag’s attempts to keep her still, and she fought him with every vestige of strength her weakened form could muster. The orc bore her attack with mild humour until she wrenched an arm free and hit him again. With a huff of resignation, he pressed a hand to her chest, flattening her against the bed.

“You - lie down. He’s fine and he can see you when you’re-” Ulag broke off and gave her a wry smile, “Less wild-eyed and bad-tempered.” In an attempt to placate her, he added, “He got his first wolf pup a couple of days ago - he’s called it ‘Teeth.’” Ulag broke off to chuckle with Thalia at the boy’s choice of name, “But it comes out as ‘Teef’ when he says it, so that’s stuck. And they’re inseparable. I’m constantly pulling the pup out of his bed. I even caught him in the pen with all the pups last night after I’d taken Teef out for a fourth time. If we’re not careful, that boy’ll get fleas.”

Thalia laughed delightedly at Ulag’s tale, devouring every last morsel of information about her son as though it was the finest food. if this was the quality of story the waking world held, perhaps it was worth the pain. “He follows his father,” she asserted. “Completely incorrigible.”

The orc gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

“And … Orin?” Thalia wondered if Ulag had already dispatched the man. She had not seen the final outcome of the fight, and she hoped he still lived, if for no other reason than to see his final moments in person, but she would not hold it against Ulag if Orin had already met his maker.

“Under heavy guard.” The mere mention of the man’s name stole Ulag’s smile.

“But alive?” she pressed.

“Alive,” confirmed Ulag. “And awaiting your pleasure, my Chieftess.”

Thalia laughed aloud, thinking his choice of title a jest, but the look on his face suggested otherwise.

“Chieftess?” She rolled it around in her head for a while and decided she liked the sound. It fit. Tales would no doubt be told of Ulag, Chief of Ten Tribes and Thalia his warrior chieftess; of their son Kel and the trials they endured to reclaim him; and of foul Orin and the price he ultimately paid for his manipulations. Those stories would inspire youngsters to act, to fight for what mattered, to resist those who would intimidate them, and to emulate the deeds of heroes. She might even weave the tale herself, with Ulag’s expert help, and enlist Torug to pen the songs. They would write their own history in the coming years as they forged a path across the known world on Ulag’s path of conquest, their armies and their influence growing as they rode. There were worse endings after all to the life story of a lordling’s daughter than for her to walk the world beside an Orc Chieftain who would ravish her senseless every night, claim lands and victories in her name, and lay the spoils of conquest at her feet.

\--  
The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realise no-one's inserted anything into Orin as yet. I'm really in two minds about it - I could certainly write a hideous death scene for him, but I'm feeling pretty mellow after writing a rare happy ending, and I'm also feeling very 'no-one kills Humperdink' today (bonus points if you get the ref!).
> 
> Anyway, hope you've enjoyed - please do comment if you feel so inclined. There may still be a flashback chapter yet. :)


	18. The Little Lady and the Orc (Bonus Chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Ulag and Thalia's early days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here’s that flashback scene I promised. No smut, sorry. I had real trouble writing this because there were so many scenes I could have written, and so many that still want to come out. :) Hope you enjoy.

The castle was alive with menace. Every speck of light in a dark corner, every flickering shadow, every clank or whistle or hiss could indicate a hostile presence. Fortunately, the Adventurer knew the castle like the back of her hand. Its every twist and turn was imprinted on her memory. It belonged to her, it was part of her, and no other could use it to their advantage as she could. Of course, if Father found out she was skulking around the lower levels of the keep in trousers she had swapped with a peasant boy for a basket of fresh bread, pilfered from under the cook’s very nose, she would quickly find her freedoms revoked. But Father would have to catch her at it first. So she inched down the dank corridor, listening for the thud of soldier boots she knew would come at any moment: it was time for the changing of the guard, and for five short minutes, the Secret Door would be unguarded. Alright, so it wasn’t exactly _secret_ but it did lead the way to a unique treasure, a sight that she could see in no other place in the entirety of Castle Morwen, nor any of its outlying holds. She had caught only a single glimpse of it so far, when her father’s brother had come back from one of his raids with more than just gold. In all of her fourteen years, she had never seen such a creature. It roused her curiosity as much as her fear, but the Adventurer did not run away from her fears: she faced them head on.

The girl counted the footsteps and once they reached twenty, she knew the guard would be out of sight around the bend in the corridor, and the door unguarded. Silent as the footfall of a cat, she edged around the corner, flattened herself along the wall of the empty corridor and opened the Secret Door. It was never locked, which while it was disappointing for a door to which she had assigned such an exciting name, it made it easy someone with a mind to to so to get to the prison within. On the wall opposite the door were four identical, barred cells, all but one of which were empty. There were no windows, so the only light at the moment was the dim torchlight that flickered around the edge of the open doorway. Thalia fiddled with flint and wick until she had a candle lit, then closed the door. A low rustle and a clank told her that the creature was awake and moving. Her heart sped up. _No_ , the Adventurer feared nothing, she reminded herself. And besides, the creature was under lock, key and chain - it could not harm her. Raising the candle high to throw as much light as possible into the inky shade at the far side of the room, she stepped forward into the unknown.

A single eye glinted back at her from the void. The girl swallowed hard. She had never seen an eye that colour before. It looked like nothing so much as her late mother’s amber necklace, a deep honey-gold gleaming in the faint light. The other eye was obscured by a lock of jet-black hair which also hid most of the creature’s face from view. The Adventurer moved another step closer, the wan light limning the figure and picking out highlights on dark red skin and a torn leather jerkin. It was hunched in a corner, knees drawn up to its chest, secured by heavy chains around one wrist and one ankle. A closer look revealed the barest hint of fluff on its lower jaw, and its nostrils were flaring in time with its rapid breathing. The Adventurer retreated, leaving plain old Thalia in its stead. This was no monster, it was a boy, not much older than herself if she was any judge. Emboldened, the girl stepped up to the bars of the cage and held the candle where she could use it to her best advantage. So _that_ was what an orc looked like. They weren’t so scary. She was just thinking to herself that her uncle’s tales of their ugliness and savagery were about as accurate as some of the tales in her favourite story-books when the creature bounded to its feet and threw itself across the small cell, juddering to a halt when its chains snapped taut. At that moment, its face was barely an arm’s length from her and she understood why they inspired such terror. 

It stood, breathing hard, belligerent and angry, tusks shining, teeth bared, challenging her to make a move. Its every muscle strained and tensed and the sheer size of it, even restrained and imprisoned, was enough to convince her it could smash her to a pulp without breaking a sweat. But something was nagging at her, and she became aware of several truths in that moment. It was big, but it was young; it had just been taken by force and dumped in a cell alone in the dark; it had at some point been separated from its companions and left in solitary confinement, and it had no idea what was going to befall it. Thalia could not imagine what the creature had done to merit such treatment from her uncle, but her father’s teachings on the handling of prisoners was clear and she held true to it as part of her own personal code: _An enemy soldier is a friend but for an accident of birth, or a choice of allegiance. He has proven himself honourable by fighting for a cause he believes in, and as such, he also shall be treated with honour, in so far as our laws allow. He shall be given the basic comforts of cleanliness, warmth and light, and food and drink so that he shall not suffer in our custody_. Her uncle appeared to be abiding by none of these tenets, but since her father was away on one of his trading trips abroad, his brother held sway. 

It was about that time she noted the look of surprise leaching onto the creature’s face. He had been expecting her to back down or run away when he lunged. Well, he had underestimated Thalia the Adventurer, for she feared nothing. And her hands were certainly not shaking. Much.

Keeping eye contact with the orc, just in case he had any odd tricks up his sleeve - although that would be quite a feat since he wasn’t wearing any - Thalia lowered the candle to the ground, dug out her flint, and laid it beside the wax stump. Then with a slight nod, she retreated towards the door and slipped back outside. 

When the door was safely shut, Thalia leaned back against the wall and let out the breath she felt like she had been holding for the last few minutes. Her uncle’s warnings be damned - she had just survived an encounter with an orc!

—

The orc reached through the bars and picked up the candle, using it to examine his cell in more detail. The stones looked solid, and the bars were built to hold something far stronger than a young orc. A means of escape was not immediately evident. The pile of blankets in the corner was, as he had suspected rife with vermin and the room was cold. He longed more than anything to be back in his forest home, safe beneath the cool green light of the trees, to feel the soft crunch of fallen needles underfoot and watch the moons rise over the tops of the pine-decked ridges. The human raiders had come in force this time, a full incursion into their territory, and he feared for the safety of his kin and his clan. He did not know whether anyone else had been killed or imprisoned, and it was a matter of no small shame to him that they had taken him alive. _Death before captivity_ was the mantra of his tribe, but despite those ingrained lessons, Ulag hoped no others had died needlessly, and while he might be suffering the ignominy of being held prisoner, he would not rest until he found a way to escape. Still, at least he wasn’t in the pitch black any more. The candle had a good few hours’ worth of light left in it, judging by its size and weight, and he could extinguish and reignite it at will thanks to the flint the human had given him. He could therefore save it to use when he needed it most, and keep it hidden from the guards. 

His mind set to worrying at this latest enigma. Why had a human girl-child come into his cell alone, and left him a candle? Was this some trick of his captors’? He had never seen a human girl up close before, and she was not what he had expected. He had always thought of them as weak, cold, ugly creatures with pinched faces and tiny little tuskless mouths. While it was true the girl had no tusks, she was none of the rest of those things. The hours passed slowly in the cold, dank cell and the boy had no way to mark the passage of time. The only break in the monotony was when the guards remembered to come in and feed him, and they were a sullen, taciturn lot who would stay no longer than it took to perform their duty. There were days when he felt he must go mad from the loneliness and the utter, uncompromising dark, and times when he raged and railed against his captivity, throwing his living space into disarray, only to sink exhausted and hopeless to the cold floor when his rage was spent. It was after one such episode that his mysterious visitor reappeared, sneaking in as she had done before, and again bringing a candle. This at least was something to break the monotony. Ulag clambered forward to kneel as close to the bars as his chains would allow. The girl knelt a few feet away and he watched her face intently. It was filled with curiosity and something the orc did not immediately understand. Her scent indicated no small amount of fear, but she had it in check.

She turned to her side and pulled a satchel around to rest on her lap. When she opened the flap, tantalising smells assaulted the orc’s nose and his stomach rumbled. His nostrils flared, actively inhaling the scent as though he could draw the food in through the bars by the power of breath alone. His stomach redoubled its complaints. The girl pulled out a scrap of cloth and laid it on the floor between them, and on it she laid a half-loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, some small green fruit he didn’t recognise and a ring of sausage. He tilted his head at her, suddenly suspicious. Who was this girl? Was this some method of torture, to lay a handsome feast in front of him then devour it before his very eyes?

“I will share my lunch with you,” she said. That at least sounded promising. “But I want something in return.”

The young orc raised his empty hands at her. He had less than nothing to give.

“I want to know your name.”

The boy’s mistrust reached a new peak. It was possible this would give her some power over him. The tribe’s shaman put much stock in the potency of a name, and warned orc childer not to give theirs to strange creatures they might meet in the forest, at least not until their name meant something; until they had earned it. Ulag had been robbed of this opportunity the night he had been taken. He had been undertaking the Om'riggor - the coming of age trial - when the human hunters had ridden him down. He was therefore not yet a full orc warrior in the eyes of his people, and the knowledge riled and shamed him with every passing moment. But that food _did_ smell good. His jailers had given him nothing but rotten scraps, and the mere sight of untainted grub made his mouth water. The food would give him strength, he decided, to combat whatever power the giving of his name might exert over him.

“Ulag,” he replied.

“Then I am honoured to share my meal with you, Ulag,” said the girl. “And I apologise for your treatment at my uncle’s hands.”

Ulag narrowed his eyes. She was kin to the one who attacked him. The food could be poisoned. “You first,” he growled.

The girl blinked at him a few times, drawing attention to the long lashes that framed her green eyes. She shrugged, nonchalant, and separated the food into two halves, pointedly taking a bite from each item, chewing and swallowing. 

He watched her breathlessly for a few moments until his stomach-brain won out. She wasn’t choking or puking, so the food must be fine. Ulag reached his unchained hand through the bars and snaffled his share of the feast, stuffing it into his mouth as though afraid it would evaporate. It was _good_ and he could not stifle the groan of delight as his mouth briefly tasted each delicious bite before he swallowed it whole. He glanced across to see the girl staring at him, her first morsel of food half-chewed in her mouth. Had he perhaps committed some social blunder? Under normal circumstances the orc would not care about such things, but this was the closest thing to a non-hostile he had encountered in this place and he wanted to foster their friendship, such as it was. He swallowed nervously and licked his lips, ready to apologise if needs be, only for the girl to burst out laughing. She grabbed a slice of cheese and one of the green fruits then pushed the square of cloth towards him, offering him the remainder of the meal. He gave her the briefest of wary glances. It could be a ruse - but then again it would be rude to refuse a gift. Ulag demolished the rest before she had finished the scant few bites remaining to her.

When the food was gone and a less companionable silence descended, Ulag realised she had him at a disadvantage. He had given her the power of his name and he did not know hers. “Who are you?” he asked. She might not give him an honest reply - in fact she wouldn’t if she had any sense - but Ulag needed a way to refer to this creature.

“Thalia,” she replied. Her face, body language and scent suggested no treachery.

“Why have you done this?” he asked, indicating the empty square of cloth and the few crumbs he hadn’t inhaled.

“My father says that enemy prisoners should be treated honourably,” she bowed and glanced to the side as though in regret or shame. “While my father’s away his rules aren’t being followed.” She raised her head and looked him in the eye, and Ulag glimpsed something hard and resolute there that was quite out of place on the girl’s soft features. “So I am enforcing them for him.”

“Who’s your father?” Ulag asked. “The head guard?” If the girl had some sway with his captors, there might be a way to convince her to release him, if he could only find out what she might want. His words appeared to spook her however. She gained her feet with considerable agility and stuffed the cloth back into her satchel.

“I will come back,” she said. And with that promise alone to keep Ulag from desperation and loneliness, she slipped silently out of the door.

—

Thalia uttered a mild curse for the third time as she tried and failed to get the damned stupid dress on. It was, to some extent at least, a situation of her own making. She had long ago dismissed the handmaid her father had assigned to her, insisting she was more than old enough to bathe, dress and groom herself without the aid of wet-nurse. At this particular point in time, with bodice lacings wrapped around her shoe and an arm through at least two of the wrong shoulder straps, Thalia was starting to regret her decision. But it was Father’s first evening back at home after a successful trading trip, and convention demanded that his daughter present herself with at least some pretence of civility.

With the dress wrangled into submission and the veneer of nobility duly applied, Thalia descended to the main hall. The majority of the evening was disappointingly dull, with each of her father’s advisors bringing him up to date on affairs in his absence. Thalia itched for the moment when she would have her father all to herself and he would tell her tales of his travels - although even from a young age the girl had understood that they included a certain amount of artistic licence - and present her with a gift from some far-flung land, usually accompanied by a tale of its procurement that put his most outlandish stories to shame. It was well into the small hours when the two of them finally finished talking and he presented his gift, and Thalia clutched it to her chest as she stumbled onto her bed.

The next morning, she woke to find the brooch he had given her still in her grasp, the outlines of the stylised horse indented onto her palm. She grinned and ran her fingers over the beautiful piece. It was forged in bronze and inlaid with amber and jet, and evoked the strength and speed of the powerful animal it portrayed, as well as a sense of movement in the fluid lines. Thalia paused. It reminded her of the orc boy in the dungeon, with his black hair and honey-gold eyes. The connotations of speed and strength were not lost on her either and she felt an irresistible urge to show it to him. That decided, she hurled herself from the bed and took a route to the lower levels that would take her past the kitchen, where she could find provisions both for herself and her strange acquaintance. 

Thalia found her arrival timed perfectly with the changing of the guard, and she hurried into the room, brooch in one hand, food in the other, closing the door quickly and silently behind her. She saw the orc’s head shoot up as she entered, and his wary expression vanished as he recognised her. She held up the cloth-wrapped bundle she had brought for him and asked, “Fancy some breakfast?”

His face broke into a smile and it completely threw her. His features, while wild by the standards of men were no less expressive, and to see this creature evince emotions such as relief and even happiness forced her to reform her opinion of their kind. They were not so very different.

A few moments later they were sharing a late morning meal, munching in companionable silence. When Thalia was sated and had shared the rest of her portion with her new friend, she pulled out the brooch and showed it to him. His eyes did not linger long on it, wandering almost immediately back to her face with an intense curiosity that Thalia found a little unsettling. To break the silence, she began to tell him the story her father had told the night before, about the duel of wits he had entered into with the foreign lord with whom he was striking a trade deal, about the two jars from which he had to choose, and the wily method he had used to divine which housed the brooch, and which the deadly snake. Throughout it all, the orc listened entranced, eyes wide in rapt attention. 

“Of course, I think he probably just bought it from a market trader, but I like the stories he brings just as much as the gifts,” admitted Thalia with an indulgent grin.

“Your people value stories too?” asked the orc boy.

Thalia nodded. “I have never heard any orc stories though.”

Ulag leaned back and rested against the cell wall, tugging at his chains to give him a little slack. “We have many. The Lok’tra, that tell of great battles, and the Lok’ammon, that tell of family. My favourites are the Lok’vadnod - heroes’ songs - but the songs are just as often told as stories.”

“Tell me one,” said Thalia, seating herself next to him against the wall, and watching him through the bars.

So Ulag recited the Lok’vadnod of Grommash Hellscream, and Thalia listened with bated breath to the story of one of Ulag’s personal heroes, a tale of a fast rise to power, of love and loss, of honour lost and honour regained through sacrifice. Told through Ulag’s eyes, it mostly focused on the battles, and the orc’s mighty axe, Doomhammer. Thalia smiled as Ulag finished his tale. It had been more than a fair exchange, her breakfast for that story.

Aware that she had been gone a long while and that her father would only be home for a few weeks at most, Thalia rose to take her leave. The orc gained his feet on the other side of the bars.

“You’re leaving?”

Thalia sighed. It must be tough for the boy, down here alone. “Yes, but I’ll be back.” An idea flashed into her mind. “Can you read Common?”

Ulag tilted his head and gave a small shrug that accentuated the powerful muscles in his shoulders. “More or less.”

“I’ll be back tonight,” she promised, gathering her cloth and heading for the door. “And I’ll bring a book.”

—

Weeks bled into months and still Ulag remained a captive in Castle Morwen’s dungeon. The relentless monotony of the indistinguishable days and nights were broken only by his guards for food and abuse, and Thalia for food and stories. The frequency of her visits waxed and waned depending on her father’s presence, and his own treatment at the hands of the guards varied in precise correlation with those timings. There were weeks when he saw her less often and his conditions improved, presumably when her father was home, and there were weeks when she visited more often while her father was absent, but he might as well have been dung for all the guards cared. As time went on, Ulag found himself almost perversely looking forward to the weeks of maltreatment, because it came with the benefit of Thalia’s company.

His favourite visits were those when she stayed for hours rather than minutes, and in those times, she would read to him and tell him other stories of heroes and villains, of love and hate, each laced with moral guidance and the importance of honour and sacrifice. In general, Ulag had a marked preference for the stories with big battle scenes and blood-stained heroes to the ones about star-crossed lovers, but he devoured them all with equal enthusiasm. Some of the tales she told had unlikely heroes, and Ulag found that in the long, dark hours alone, he cast himself in those roles. One of his favourite personal fantasies involved breaking out of his cell, killing the guards and absconding with Thalia - who would of course shower him with gratitude for saving her from her uncle. In Ulag’s version of events, he cast her uncle as a twisted monster who was trying to coerce the girl into some unwanted situation. It would never happen of course, but it did help while away the hours between her visits.

Thalia often visited him at night, when the guards were less vigilant then and more prone to gambling and drinking than to watching their captives. Tonight’s story of choice was of Darius and Mani and the last living dragon. While the protagonists won at the end and saved both the dragon and the city, the villain of the piece did not get his just desserts, and it sent Ulag into a veritable fit of indignation.

“What do you mean, no-one kills him?” he raged, stamping around the tiny confines of his cell.

“He just lives, Ulag,” chuckled Thalia. “Sometimes people live a long life of wrongdoing and never get their come-uppance.”

“What sort of stupid fu-” Ulag broke off, composed himself then resumed, “Stupid ending for a story is that?” While his language with friends and even family was colourful, he found himself unwilling to curse in front of the girl.

“How would you have had it end, then?” asked Thalia. 

“With _justice_ ,” snapped the orc. “I would have had him pay for his crimes.”

“There are lots of life lessons in these books, Father used to say, and I suppose one of those is learning to accept that sometimes the villain gets away scott-free.”

Ulag opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t think of a single answer that didn’t involve copious amounts of swearing, so he slumped down against the wall and scowled for a while, contemplating the ramifications of the tale. When he finally turned to Thalia to voice his opinion, he found her head had lolled and she had fallen asleep leaning back against the wall. The orc shut his mouth again and indulged himself in a more detailed examination of his companion. Her hair was long and black like his own, and looked as soft as rabbit-fur. It was splayed against her cheek where her head rested at a slant and more than anything at that moment, he wanted to reach out and brush it aside, to simultaneously feel the softness of her hair and skin, and take in her scent from a more intimate distance. A few moments later she shook herself awake and bade him goodnight, leaving him alone with only the book, her smuggled candles and his errant thoughts for company.

-

Thalia stomped down the stairs towards the dungeon levels, half of her voluminous skirt slung over one arm to counteract its restrictive effects. Her uncle had gone too far this time. It was all very well that he acted as steward in her father’s absence, but that did not give him the right to start to look for suitors for her. This latest introduction had been completely out of the blue, and while the man did have interesting grey eyes and a fascinating style of sword she had never seen before, he was about a hundred years too old for her. Her uncle had tried to persuade her - after the embarrassing anti-climax where she’d all but laughed in the potential suitor’s face - that marriage for political or strategic gain was something to be considered and cultivated, and that she was already far too old to be choosy. Thalia had stormed out in response. She knew that her father did not share his brother’s views, and had encouraged her to marry for love as he had done with her late mother, and he had told her on several occasions that he regretted not a single one of the days they had spent together. 

With the guard change in progress, Thalia slipped into the small room to find Ulag reading by candlelight, a lock of black hair as usual flopping over his left eye. She leaned against the door as it closed and felt instantly safer and more relaxed. There were few others - her father excluded - with whom she preferred to spend time, and after this latest disastrous encounter with a potential suitor, Thalia could think of no-one she would rather be with. 

“Nice dress,” commented the orc, in a tone that indicated it was about as attractive as sack-cloth. 

Thalia laughed. “Don’t ask.” She indicated the book on his lap. “Which one are you reading?”

“The Dust Lord,” replied the other with a grin.

“ _Again_?” laughed Thalia. He must have read that story a dozen times since she had given him the book, but she had noted he seemed to prefer being read to more than reading for himself. Maybe he found Common taxing to read, as it was not his mother tongue. The Dust Lord, while not one of her favourites, did have the longest and most involved battle scene in the entire book however, and she was not surprised that it caught Ulag’s imagination and encouraged him to persevere with the Common text.

“Are you staying long?” he asked. Her visits were usually either a few minutes between guard changes or several hours between the current guard change and the next. Thalia considered what awaited her upstairs in the form of her uncle and her ancient suitor, and the associated pressure to marry, and confirmed the latter. Ulag’s smile made whatever retribution she would face when she went back up to the main hall more than worth it. 

Thalia settled down with her back against the wall next to the orc boy’s cell, and took the book from him. It fell open rather helpfully at a story they had both identified as one of their favourites. Not only did it have plenty of vivid battles and a hard-won victory, but the lovers torn apart through the story’s weave were reunited at the end. The hero was Kel, the heroine Nax, and it was a rare story - excised from later editions of the book - where the protagonists were of different races. When Thalia finally reached the end of the story, she surreptitiously wiped away the happy tear that had escaped her eye: she did not want the orc to see her cry.

“Would you do what Nax did?” he asked presently.

Thalia brought her mind back to the here and now. In the story, Nax had gone against her people’s wishes and hunted down a sacred animal for its blood, the only thing that could save her love’s life. It was an act which simultaneously revived her lover and ostracised her from her people forever. Moreover, the two were reviled as pariahs for their forbidden love and hunted to the ends of the world, but they stayed a step ahead and although living in constant fear of discovery, their love sustained them. Thalia considered it for a moment. She had never been in love, but she had seen the devotion between her father and mother, and could imagine them doing such a thing. She liked to think that someday she too would experience what they had, and so she nodded. “I think so.” She looked at him curiously. “Would you?”

Ulag spluttered. “No!” At her shocked look he elucidated. “Yes, I’d kill the damned animal to get the cure, but I wouldn’t run away to the ends of the world. I’d stand and fight.” As though to emphasise his point, he stood, chains clanking, taking a warrior’s stance. “I’d cut down anyone who tried to come between me and my mate, and I’d-” he broke off, considering. “I’d make them see that our love wasn’t wrong.”

Thalia blinked in surprise. The belligerent part she had expected, but she had not thought an orc might commit himself to changing others’ views rather than slaughtering them all. It made her view him in a new light. “You’re not what I expected,” she admitted at length. 

The orc knelt as close to the bars as his shackles allowed, his gaze frank and open. “Then help me escape,” he breathed. 

For the briefest of moments, Thalia considered it. She knew the castle better than almost anyone and could move around it as she pleased, but smuggling a creature that was close on seven feet tall and as wide as two men out of the dungeon was just lunacy. Even if the timings were right, it just could not be done. Besides, she hated to imagine her uncle’s mood when he found out. With her father away again, she would most likely bear the indirect brunt of his bad mood, even if he didn’t link her to the crime. It might be unfair to hold the young orc a prisoner, but how would she feel if she set him free and he killed everyone on his way out, or managed to get out but then brought his tribe down on her people in a bloody massacre? There were just too many risks.

“I’m sorry, Ulag, really.” She passed the book back through the bars of his cell and he reached out to take it. As he did so, his thumb grazed her hand, and just for the most fleeting of instants, Thalia perceived the warmth of his skin against hers. Two conflicting images flashed in her mind in glaring clarity. In one, she was the Lady of Castle Morwen with a husband many years her senior and a gaggle of children round her ankles. In the other, she stood with the orc boy in a beautiful forest at night, and his warmth was all around her, bringing with it sensations of excitement and a deep yearning she could not yet fathom. Thalia caught her breath and backpedalled away from the cell, confused at her body’s reaction to the creature’s touch. Without a single word, she darted out of the door, leaving a very disappointed orc in her wake.

-

It was the smoke that woke her initially. The screams secured her attention some moments later, propelling her from her bed and over to the window before she was really aware she had moved. She threw wide the shutters onto a scene that would be engraved on her memory as long as she lived. Her home burned. The snowy courtyard below seethed with armoured invaders, and people ran screaming and burning and bleeding in their path. Thalia’s mind snapped into action. As the Lord’s daughter, she would be a sought-after prize, and that was something she was absolutely certain she did not want to happen, so the sensible thing was not to be there when they came looking. Diving for her bed, she rummaged under it and pulled out her travelling bag. It was a plain brown backpack that she kept hidden and stocked for just such an eventuality. Given the frequency with which her heroes were thrust into adventure with very little warning, and being of a practical nature, Thalia had decided she would be prepared when destiny finally came a-knocking, or in this case, a-pillaging. She was half-way to her wardrobe to find more suitable escape attire when something heavy was thrown against the door. Too late. Throwing the pack to her back, Thalia slipped through the hidden door behind the tapestry into the adjoining room and was out and running through the corridor even as her chamber door was smashed to flinders.

Her knowledge of the castle stood her in good stead that night. The ability to disappear into a nook or hidden bend, or to know which thoroughfares were less travelled was probably all that prevented her life from taking a very different - and far less enjoyable - path that night. It was the work of moments to win to the lower levels, and with the stables in sight, Thalia prepared to make her move. Her horse was in the third stall on the left, and she could ride bareback if needs be. An appraising glance around showed the coast was clear, but the entrance to the dungeon was ablaze. Ulag. Thalia’s heart tripped in her chest. She had been so concerned with preserving her own skin that she had almost forgotten the orc boy. She scrunched her eyes shut as unwanted images thronged in her mind. He would be trapped below while the wall of flames advanced inexorably on him, unable to flee, with no-one to come to his aid. She imagined him crying out in pain and fear as the fire ate his flesh and melted his clothing. Thalia’s eyes shot open. _No-one but her_. Stashing her pack at the side of the gate, she took the side stairs down to the lower levels, to find every wooden surface ablaze. Barrels and beams had caught in seconds and the straw underfoot was smoking despite the damp. The guards had fled either to save themselves or join the fight above, and no-one had thought to see to the captives. Grabbing the keys from their hook and shoving open the Secret Door, Thalia found Ulag desperately trying to smash open the cell lock with his fists clenched together, but so far had succeeded only in bloodying his hands. Fire had already crept into the small room from the wooden ceiling struts, and was eating its way along the walls, blanketing the room in smoke.

Thalia dashed across the room to the cell door and rammed the key into the lock, twisting hard and wrenching it open. Ulag had succeeded in ripping the chain securing his hand loose of its mooring in his desperation, but his leg was still bound. Thalia dropped to a knee and undid the manacle, rising and casting a worried glance at the door. A sudden thought gripped her and wormed its way into her pragmatic brain. She had just released an _orc_. This creature had been kept captive at her uncle’s behest for six long months and she was now alone in a cell with a seven-foot killing machine that had a gripe against her family. Had she erred in judgment? She searched for her answer in his face, and found it written clear as day. There was not the slightest hint of aggression in him, only a desire to be gone from that place that very instant. Relaxing, she grabbed at his wrist and pulled him behind her.

“Quick,” she said, only to break off as the smoke caused her to cough and hitch. “Follow me.”

—

Ulag’s eyes stung from the acrid smoke that filled the air like the heavy fogbanks that hung low over the river at the edge of his forest home, a home he might yet see if he and Thalia could win their way to freedom through the inferno. As her small hand closed on his wrist, he pulled it free and gripped her hand with his instead and with a firmer connection, they staggered together through the orange haze towards freedom. Out in the corridor, a red-hot beam fell from the ceiling, landing diagonally across their path and barring the way, flames flickering to life before their eyes. Ulag kicked it dead centre and the hardwood smashed in two. Sharing a relieved glance, the two leaped across the fire and made their way up the stairs towards cooler, cleaner air. A figure stood at the top, and as the smoke blew across the entrance, Thalia gave a a little gasp of recognition. The man hailed her in relief as he spotted her through the smoke, although he had clearly not yet seen Ulag.

“Duncan…” she breathed. She half turned her head to look at the man who waited above, but her eyes were fixed on Ulag.

The orc peered up the stairs at the armoured greybeard who looked sixty if he was a day. “He’ll protect you?” he asked.

Thalia nodded.

“Go then,” he urged. “I’ll make my own way.”

The girl turned to him, clearly hesitating. This was _goodbye_. Something surged in him then, whether it was the sight of a young female form through the backlit material of her nightgown, her daring rescue, the long hours of friendship or teenage orcish hormones, he could not say. In his youthful fantasies, he had occasionally imagined that he would one day convince her to help him escape, upon which he would steal her away from her vile uncle, and … and then it was all a little hazy, but probably involved running wild in the forest, living off the land and telling each other stories by firelight. He had thought perhaps in time those firelit stories would turn to something more intimate, and the thought triggered the desire for an alternative course of action. It would be so easy now to run for the woods and take her with him, and show her in a very real and physical way exactly what her friendship had meant to him. At seventeen, the orc was no stranger to sex, but Thalia was an unknown quantity. He had no idea if she even thought of him that way - if she did, she had certainly given him no sign, and furthermore she was human and at least a few years younger than him. Ulag signed inwardly. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that course of action would make him the villain. That was not what he wanted for his life, or hers. She should go with this Duncan whom she seemed to trust and he would retain that moral high ground in which the stories she told him seemed to put so much stock. He was damned sure his libido was going to make him regret that decision later, but it was the right thing to do. 

There was one element from the many stories Thalia had told him that did seem appropriate however. He was fairly certain that a goodbye kiss was allowed - or even mandated - in the stories of star-crossed lovers that she loved so dearly. For Ulag, thought and deed were one. He reached out and seized the girl at the small of her back and pulled her in, scenting woodsmoke and blood and flowers. One glance at her breathless form was enough to convince him. He leaned down and took his kiss, pressing his broad lips against her unresisting mouth, where he held it for several long heartbeats. She was warm and just as soft as he had imagined, and she tasted of sugar and smoke. There was a loud clank as the keys fell from Thalia’s limp grip and clattered on the floor, and the noise brought them both to their senses. They were in a flaming dungeon beset by murderous raiders and this was really not the time, so Ulag took one last look at her through the fire and smoke, committing her face to memory before their ways parted, perhaps for ever.

“Farewell, my Thalia.”


	19. Inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some notes and links on where I drew some of the visual inspiration for this fic.

A year or so back, I started collecting pics on a Pinterest board of various orcs, demons and assorted other creatures that inspired me. It dawned on me eventually that just about every orc pic I chose appeared to be of the same character, which turned out to be Grommash Hellscream. So I looked him up, read his story, watched various online videos and basically got a bit obsessed. 

Ulag is physically modelled on Grom, and if you want to see what Ulag looks like when I envisage him, look up just about any pic of him. Character-wise, I don’t know where Ulag came from! 

Anyhew, if anyone’s interested, some of the pics that inspired some of the scenes in the fic are below:

Ulag riding Blackmaw into battle: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/zlknm

Ulag sitting on Orin’s seat with his head under his boot: http://www.blizz-art.com/illustration/9374/ I basically wrote that entire scene in the villa just so I could shoehorn this pic in. XD

Thanks to everyone who stuck with it and enjoyed.

This whole thing just spiralled completely out of control. I only intended to write that first chapter, and none of the rest was in my head at all when I penned it. Oh and Ulag is now badgering me to rewrite chapter 1 from his point of view, because he insists it’ll give a more balanced view on what happened. I may indulge him at some point. :)   



	20. Post-credits scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone gets their just desserts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah yeah, I know this isn't the MCU, but if you've stuck around this long, you deserve an extra bit of story. :)
> 
> 21st July 2020: Minor update to Ulag & Thalia's last interaction.

In a deserted corner of the camp, three orc youths taunted a lone figure, alternately pelting his half-clothed body with rotten fruit and hurling inventive insults. They appeared to be having a high old time of it and Thalia watched their antics as she drew nearer, anticipation and repulsion warring within her with every step. Now that she had indulged herself for several long hours in the company of her young son and his canine shadow, it was time to mete justice. Ulag strode at her side, grim, silent and imposing. A few more steps would bring them before the being that had ruined their lives and impinged on their happiness for many long months. The orc children pulled out a new batch of over-ripe tomatoes and made ready to loose their missiles. One glare from the Chief of Ten Tribes and they scattered like startled birds.

The man was under heavy guard, as Ulag had intimated, with four heavy-set Orcish warriors in permanent attendance. The nearest tent was several yards away, far from the noise and smell: he had been there a few days and it was starting to show. He was stretched by his wrists, chained to two sturdy posts, and held upright under the blazing sun. Ulag slowed a few feet from the man, but Thalia walked right up to him and landed a sharp backhand slap against his cheek. Desert wind cracked through canvas, guy-lines hummed, vultures hissed overhead. Otherwise all was silent.

Orin brought his face back around to look at her, his lip bleeding from the blow, hair tousled and dusty, a far cry from the polished figure she was so used to seeing. He spat at her feet. Thalia turned without a word, and walked back to stand at Ulag’s side.

The orc stood in expectant confusion, looking from her to Orin and back again. “That’s it?” He looked as surprised as Orin did.

Thalia laid a hand on the solid curve of his chest, drinking in the heat, the life, the passion that was Ulag. “The rest I leave to you, my chieftain. Do whatever you think is _just_.”

Ulag raised an eyebrow and clenched his fists. Thalia could almost feel the raw, destructive energy and the desire for revenge beginning to course through him. While it was true she would like to personally inflict punishment on this man who had physically and mentally scarred her, and stolen and threatened her son, that one retaliative slap for the one he had given her the night of the treaty had brought an immense measure of satisfaction, and she had a suspicion Ulag would be much more inventive in his retribution.

“And when you’re done,” she went on, sliding her hand onto the back of his neck and pulling him down towards her. “I want you to come straight for me and rut with me like your life depends on it.”

Ulag’s lips parted and his eyes took on a sheen of desire, still tempered with some surprise, and he caught her at the small of her back, pressing her against him while his fingers stroked lightly against the thin material of her shirt. “What _exactly_ did I do to deserve this?”

Thalia reached a hand up and rested it against his cheek, letting her eyes wander over every wild, rough feature and delighting in all of them. “ _Everything_.” Standing on tiptoes, she pressed a light kiss against his parted lips and added, “Consider it my bonding gift to you.”

The orc stepped back, pressed his fist to his chest and inclined his head. Thalia could imagine no more eloquent an expression of devotion and gratitude.

The chieftess perched on a nearby log, pulled out a belt knife and began to peel an apple as Ulag set to work. With each broken bone, she recalled a lash against her skin, and that mark was erased from her mind; with each precise cut, she recalled an instant of torment, and that pain was summarily banished. Judging by the rate at which the unfortunate man was losing skin, and the extent to which certain weapons of war were being put to unusual and imaginative use, Orin wouldn’t last long. That was fine with her. It just meant that the sexually-charged liaison with her blood-spattered avenger would come all the sooner. Thalia munched her apple and shivered in anticipation. 

Revenge was indeed sweet.


End file.
